I know you are frustrated.

Sometimes I can feel it through the miles

like an oncoming storm.

Or maybe it’s my own frustration I feel.

I can’t get what you said out of my head.

Somehow it has burned itself into my very

lungs and when I breathe,

the exhalations are painful and echoing.

And it has turned every day into a frightful game

of waiting.

My prayers into quiet panic.

No matter what I feel. No matter how much

I love you,

I feel that you are right.

One year ago, you were better.

Much better off.

But maybe,

you weren’t.

Maybe you were waiting too.

And maybe you have no idea what to do

now that you don’t have to wait anymore.

I wonder if we’ll ever lose each other for good,

and how you’d remember me in moments of solitude.

You don’t realize how much I want you to be happy,

and how much I want to be enough.

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