Waiting...

I just read Rivaflowz blog about women and how we wait, and wait, and wait. It touched my heart because I've waited-for validation, for affirmation, for love, for maybes. As I type this and reminisce on my past dealings, every man has made me wait. And every time, I fell asleep with my phone in one hand, holding on to the hope that it will jar me from my cry-induced sleep when he finally calls. But he doesn't call. Not that night anyway. Maybe the next day, and it is almost as if my time and tears mean nothing to him. They can't. Which is why, whatever he was doing, was more important than yme, sitting by myself, waiting...


Her heart junps with every buzz/beep of her phone. Gets excited every time the door swings. Her friends are texting "How's it going?" She can't answer, because it's not. She falls asleep with tear stained pillows on her birthday. I am her. She used to be me. Time and words, once spent, are two things that you can't get back.

I, too, have waited...