The Break-Up

I wait for him at the cafe
Stood up
While waiting
For my drink,
For a miracle,
For someone to tell me I am wrong.
I wait for him
To say the words
Words I dread,
Words I need to hear
But he doesn't
His face
Wise, cruel, real.
I wait for the end,
My beginning
But it is I who initiates.
"I think we are over"
I say, he cries, we depart.
I feel his glimpses
Constantly
Intruding
I am devastated.
Taking a sip of my drink
I wait for regret,
sadness, a sense of the unwanted
Instead,
I am
Liberated.