Compensation

Every time the door goes

Swinging,

Flying,

Bursting,

Flinging,

Open,

I imagine that I hear your footsteps

Either slowly or quickly

Closing the distance

To where I sit

Destitute and forlorn.

 

My heart quickens-

It must be you!

The voice that speaks-

It sounds like yours!

My mood begins to elevate-

 

Then it stops.

 

It’s not you.

You would have come to me by now.

The voice no longer sounds like yours.

The footsteps,

Foreign and strange.

 

So I content myself with a compensatory thought.

You’ll be back soon.

I know it.

I’ll just patiently wait a little longer.

A little longer.

A little longer.

Longer.

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