He leaves me.
That's my biggest fear.
But I know that it won't happen.
I know it'll work out.
He leaves me.
He's been gone for some time now.
10 minutes.
The clock continues to tick.
I can hear each minute that passes.
Each second hurting me more than before.
20 minutes now.
37 minutes pass.
He's told me to leave him alone.
So I do.
I often wonder if he thinks about me.
If he thinks about us when he's gone.
Does he hear my cries?
Does he feel the pain in my chest?
Can he taste the salt in his mouth from the tears that fall softly down my cheek?
I want to tell him that I'm sorry.
But I don't.
I want to tell him that I love him.
But I don't.
I don't want to bother him.
I don't want him to be mad at me.
I don't want him to burst or snap.
So I don't say anything.
39 minutes have passed.
And I wait for his return.
I know he'll be back.
I don't know when.
I want to tell him how much I care about him.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I continue to weep.
I dry my eyes.
He loves me.
I love him.
He'll come back.
I worry if he's okay.
Or if he's still hurting.
I'll still stay by his side.
We're all we have.
He leaves me.
That is my biggest fear.
But I know he won't.
And he knows I won't.
So I wait for his return.
And I sit and think.
45 minutes have passed.
And I sit and think.
I wait for the pain to stop.
And I sit and think.
Time is my worst enemy.
