Him
I sit and read,
Trying to ignore what happened.
Sleep.
The voice in my mind calls.
I think of sleep,
Let the thought caress my head for a moment.
I could sleep.
Sleep and dream,
dream of him.
Him.
The one who left.
My eyes start to sting as I think of him.
My whole body aches just thinking of his smile.
His crooked smile.
No.
No dreaming.
Dreaming leads to hoping.
Hoping he’ll come back.
There is no hope.
He won’t come.
I can’t think of him.
I mustn’t.
I get up,
Not quite used to my feet just yet.
I walk to my mirror and stare at my blotchy face and red eyes.
Was I not pretty enough?
Not thin enough?
Who defines that?
Who defines pretty?
He did.
My heart hurt as I thought of him.
Not even daring to think his name.
Trying to avoid the trust I know I must face.