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Hope and consequences

I hope you will find your way back to me and figure out the doorway.  Not to how we were before but in a new and wonderful way.  So here I am, hoping all alone.  Then again I have spent so much time alone in so many years that this is almost my natural and most comfortable way of being.  It has become my cloak.  It is my invisible wall.

I wait for the door to buzz, and it doesnt.  I want it to. I wnat you to be on the intercom and I fear it at the same time.  My yeyes have a life of their own and as I wander around on any and all of my walks, my eyes scan any likely car looking for you behind the windscreen.  I search for you from the railway platforms through the windows of morning trains.

Sitting here, with me is a framed picture of you.  I miss you with every breath and heartbeat.

I know I have grown silent.  Last week’s bitter tirade of texts, full of anger and vitriol that filled my early morning and drained the energy from me.  I have no energy for talk or text.

You should have been my happy ending.

I am terrified of what lies ahead.  I feel like I am moving in exaggerated slow motion, shackled by grief. My senses aren’t working properly.  Sometimes I hear things too clearly – voices sound like clanging bells, yet sometimes words and noise dissolves into some kind of aural soup.

My mouth is always dry.

I have to remind myself to breath.



One comment on “Hope and consequences

  1. Maggie, I’m so sorry you’ve been under such stress. I caught up on your posts and hope your mum is okay, and boy do I hear ya on the teenage trail of mess.
    As for matters of the heart, just keep believing that you are worthy of having the kind of love you that want. *hugs*

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