the flowers; h.s.

day twenty-three

I have spent the past two days reading and rereading the letter. Every time I read it, I hope to find something in it that I overlooked from the many times before, but I come up short each time.

I have put the letter right next to the flowers, which are beyond wilted by now. The petals that were once filled with color are now bland and brittle. The stems which used to point in the direction of the sun are now hanging their sad heads in the opposite direction. The flowers have lost their life. They are completely dead now. And there's no use in saving something that is already gone. So I am way past changing the water. I allow the dead flowers to sit in an empty vase, feeling and looking as gloomy as possible.

I look at the flowers and think, 'Even though they are dead, even though they are no longer trying to look presentable, they are still here. They linger, but he doesn't.'

I used to spend my time staring at the flowers that were alive and beautiful, but I now try to diverge my thoughts and actions away from the gloomy plants. They only remind me how long he has been gone. And how long it has taken him to return.

He promised to be back, and I believe him. Despite everything that he has put me through, I trust him more than anything in the world. All I want is for him to come back to me like he said. And all I can do is trust that he is telling no lies and that he is being truthful about this. Nothing would break my already broken heart more than him being untruthful to me.

So I'll wait. I'll wait for his return, for his keep of the promise that he gave me, for him to be back into my arms, safe and sound, for me to no longer be alone, for me to no longer share a bed with no one. I'll wait.

And with this, I give you my word. Just like he has given me his. I will wait.