The wait

You’re waiting for someone who isn’t coming back living your days hoping they’ll finally see they can’t live theirs without you But the hours you spend on that phone are hours your own life is whispering “I’m still here.” Grief loves to dress up as loyalty but love that only exists in absence starves the present One day you’ll notice the air shifting when you turn away not because they walked in, but because you walked out of the waiting room. You learn to build a home in yourself, so if they ever appear, they find you already whole, and if not, you’re no longer a question left on a porch.