I waited through the long afternoons when your shadow was longer than your patience. I waited through the texts you left on read, through the promises you swallowed like bad wine. I became an expert in the geometry of your back— the way it turned from me in that bed, a curve of marble, cold and magnificent.
I waited until the waiting turned into watching. And the watching turned into seeing. And seeing? Seeing is the end of love. angela white i waited
Because waiting has a season. Even the deepest river has a dam. Even the most faithful dog will stop barking at an empty door. I waited through the long afternoons when your