Waiting

I waited for you by the river's edge this morning, in that special place we always meet. It was early when I went there; the mist was still shrouding everything like a ghostly embrace. I remember this well, because it hindered my vision as I waited and looked for you. 

You never came.

I wear the locket you gave me; I always do. I touch it when I'm lonely or sad, which is often. Sometimes I pretend that it is your hand and that if I close my eyes and focus hard enough, maybe you will touch me back. 

You never do.

I keep our photograph inside the locket, our favorite one that we took together shortly after we met. I love your smile, so genuine and infectious, just seeing it makes me smile. I miss you smiling back at me. I miss seeing your smile when your gaze fell upon me, how happy you looked . . . How happy I felt. I wish that we could be that happy again.

I will never be happy again.

I knew this in my heart, that morning by the river . . . That morning you never came. I knew our love was breaking and I knew my heart would never be the same. You were a thief; thief of my heart, thief of my soul, and I wanted you to take every inch of me. 

You threw it away.

I waited for you by the river's edge, longing for your kiss, but as time went by and you did not come, the only kiss I would feel was that of the mist upon my skin . . . The cold, cold mist upon my skin. 

I still have the locket. You still have my heart. I still love you. You love me not. My pain is endless. You don't even know. You will never know, not because I won't tell you or because you don't understand, but because you left without saying goodbye. 

I cry every night and the pain is no less. Every day I go wait for you by the river's edge, wasting away under your curse. The curse of your absence, the absence of my heart.