And I wait.

We leave you at your door, and as we pull away from the driveway I slowly sink into my seat, already lonely and lost.

And I wait to feel your presence once again.

Just as we reach our destination I feel I must escape… the pressure simply too much to bear inside this place called home. I set my desert on the countertop to melt away, grab my shoes and phone, then quickly head out the door as my lungs call for fresh air.

Rings vibrate through to night from my ear, yet I receive no answer. And I shed tears as the fresh evening air my lungs just called for, now fills my chest with gloom.

And I wait for a call that never arrives.

Morning comes, and warm electric air now flows from a small heater under the desk, warming my feet from the stale atmosphere of this space deemed an office. Yet it makes no difference, as I’m still cold and sore from the feelings I have inside, from the worries racing through my mind.

And I wait to hear from you. Anything to let me know you’re still there. Anything to let me know that you still care.

And I wait.