Waiting

" Waiting. . .

I wait for you to come home to me. To embrace me in your warmth. So I sit by the door watching the clock. Every hour passing. 10pm. 11pm. 12 am. 1am. till it's 2am and you walk in drunk. I go to welcome you home but all you do is push me to the ground. You are mad. upset. You pull me up by my hair and call me an idiot. You strike me across the face, calling me trash and that I should be thrown away. "

I wake up to your beautiful, smiling face next to mine. I think of the odd dream as I prepare for my day. However, looking into the mirror to see the darkening bruise that kisses my cheek, I know last night was not a dream. So I sit. I write one final letter to you.

Waiting. . .

For you to go to work. Packing my belongings, I leave the tear-kissed letter on my pillow. Leaving you was hard. But I knew if I stayed. . .

Loving You would be Harder.