The night I stopped waiting
was quiet, almost ordinary,
which felt unfair somehow.
I was sitting on the edge of my bed,
phone dark in my hand,
realizing no message was coming.
I told myself I was patient,
that love takes time,
that maybe tomorrow would be different.
But how long do you wait
before waiting becomes a habit?
Before hope turns into self-neglect?
I noticed how tired my body felt,
how my chest loosened
when I imagined not expecting anything.
What if nothing changes because I don’t choose it?
What if staying is easier than leaving?
That night, I didn’t make a dramatic decision.
I just stopped checking.
Stopped explaining.
Stopped holding space for silence.
I went to sleep without expecting to be chosen,
and woke up closer to myself than I’d been in years.
About the Creator
John Smith
Man is mortal.
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Comments (3)
This is beautiful John. You explained what a lot of people do, get used to the silence. Get used to be ignored. You are deeply expressive, and you write beautiful poetry, John. I've already subscribed to you.
You’ve been quiet lately. Everything okay?
beautiful and quietly powerful