I waited.
I waited for him,
to be kissed,
to be held
in his warm arms.
I waited.
I waited
so we could
talk about the day,
good or bad,
to lighten the weight.
I waited.
I waited
so we could
make plans
for tomorrow,
for the coming weekend.
I waited.
My eyes were tired.
I waited.
My body was aching.
I waited.
Every part of me
expected his touch.
So
I waited.
….
….
….
It was late.
He came.
I could hear
keys jingling.
He came.
I could hear
the door squeak.
He came.
I could hear
water flushing
down the hall.
He came.
I could hear footsteps
on the staircase.
He came.
He came close
to my room,
but
he opened another door
and went to sleep,
thinking I was already asleep,
without making a sound.
And I,
still awake,
still waiting.