You Weren'T Going To Come Over At Five-Thirty-Five

minutes grew into hours and the hope of
you weakened until it was
behind me and
ahead was a blank page
(or two)
and I wasn't sad about it like usual just
blank
like the page
which was littered with invisible words
with kisses on a certain seaside
on seas crashing
on lips
that belonged to somebody else
and I wasn't sad that you didn't come
because a part of me was scared
that a part of you
would be able to see the words
I'd left there
(a certain seaside)
on my lips

by Leah Dodd

Comments (2)

picturesque quality is fantastic waiting is boring yet a sensation
Minutes grew in hours of hope. Nicely penned poem shared ever. Keep on writing.