Alone

She knows that none are coming.

Still she waits.

Persistent longing, loneliness.

They don’t exist. But, that doesn’t stop the wanting. Somehow there is always hope.

Hope that clings to life.

She knows that she needs self-love.

To show up for herself.

But still, the longing remains.

Always. Waiting.

Wanting. Hoping alone.

“Come find me!” she cries to the void.

“Why aren’t you here?!” “Where are you?” “Give me a sign and I’ll follow you!”

Echoing silence as the only response.

Why can’t they be real?

I wish you were real.

I wish you were here.

I wish.

I hope.

Alone.