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The Wait

On Loss

By Carmen ScottPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Whispers left my mouth and rise in lazy curls fronds of condensation. The night folds in on me laying crystals on my clothes as it leeches the last of the dusk. The only sound was the dance of my feet as the cold flirted with my toes and the chill began to graze me, chaffing at my senses and drawing out my thoughts like drops of blood.

My nerves clanking, ragged and like a confused percussion they played their unkempt melody through my pores; slick in their journey across my palms. I tugged the shadows around me tight anonymous to the figures that passed. Their stories untold to me as they spilled from doors and melted like sun across the street, dappling the air and the shadows with rays of laughter.

I'm unsure of how long I waited. The hopeful silence that held my breathing ransom was my only companion as time slithered away towards a new fleshy pink dawn.

As the lights outside changed sleepily from green to red I kept waiting. My eyes drinking in my surroundings in great gulps of hope. The anticipation I felt prowled the contours of my horizon and thirsty I drank.

The wait was nearly over.

sad poetry
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