Your Dearest

When I look at you, I see

All of my pain and all of my hope.

When I look at you, I see

Unending days of restless solitude,

Awaiting an expectation of solutions.

I remember the reason you gave,

And I had the strength to respect it then,

But each new daily death I woke up to

Kept chipping away at what strength I had left.

I keep asking myself,

"Why is he calling me now?"

"Why couldn't he call me then?"

"Why couldn't he just pick up the phone

And send a short message

Maybe once or twice a day

Instead of leaving me here

With no one to talk to

And nothing to waste my time on

While I wait for you

To maybe come back someday

And talk to me again?!"

"Why did he have to leave me?"

But you know, it's whatever.

It's "in the past" now.

That's really all I can say.

You had your reasons.

And all I can really do

Is to accept them.

Because you're here now.

And I should be happy

And grateful for that.

Shouldn't I?

The solutions I've been waiting for

Are finally showing up at my door

And asking to come in.

So shouldn't I let them?

…

But no.

It's more difficult than that.

You see,

Emotions existed,

While I was waiting.

Deep emotions.

Sharp emotions.

Piercingly scathing emotions which

Gnawed at the little hope,

The little good faith,

The little patience I had left.

And I know you had your reasons,

And you had your fair share of pain,

But perhaps I'm just stubborn—

Or maybe I'm too childish—

To be able to remember

How to move on

And let things go.

So maybe,

If you can help me

To remember your pain

And understand your reasonability,

I can finally move past it,

And finally reconcile.

So darling,

My love,

My hope and my answer,

Can you give me a hand?

And help me forgive?

So I can finally have you in my life

To hold and cherish once more?

…

I shall be awaiting your reply, as always.

Your dearest,

Erika

*Author's Note: I guess I wrote this more like a monologue in a script than a poem lol. Well, I still think it suits it, and I'm happy with it.