Brigit's Flame, week 2, October
Title: The Other
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: adult themes
Word Count: 273
Prompts: Compulsory Prompt: That despairing feeling when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away. Additional bonus Prompt: Disillusionment
A/N: Written for week #2 at Brigits_flame.
It is when I ache to hear your voice after the long day dying. The comfort of my name from your lips is reward enough for patience, until she answers instead. Then there must be a disconnect from the only line between us, and I am left with only my breath to fill the empty room. The miles yawn and I have forgotten your voice, but I am the shadow. I am your afterthought.
It is when the door shuts behind me, and time to walk home. Staring up at your window from the street, that guiltless beacon, I wonder if you ever gaze into the dark indecipherable. Do you trace my path from your perch above, or do you only see your own reflection?
It is when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away. There is one a few doors down from you, but that would give us away. It is watching you drive by in your car as I wait to catch the ten-thirty. Do you check the rearview to see one last glimpse of me?
It is reaching out in a dream and feeling your absence, the space I thought was you grown cold as the morning coffee as I wonder what I have done by loving you.
It is wishing I had seen you first, but knowing one day it won't matter. One day is what I live for as I walk home in the dark, listen for your call, feel for your warmth and get off one street away from you and hope I am waiting for love and not disillusionment to stay.
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: adult themes
Word Count: 273
Prompts: Compulsory Prompt: That despairing feeling when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away. Additional bonus Prompt: Disillusionment
A/N: Written for week #2 at Brigits_flame.
It is when I ache to hear your voice after the long day dying. The comfort of my name from your lips is reward enough for patience, until she answers instead. Then there must be a disconnect from the only line between us, and I am left with only my breath to fill the empty room. The miles yawn and I have forgotten your voice, but I am the shadow. I am your afterthought.
It is when the door shuts behind me, and time to walk home. Staring up at your window from the street, that guiltless beacon, I wonder if you ever gaze into the dark indecipherable. Do you trace my path from your perch above, or do you only see your own reflection?
It is when the bus pulls away from the stop when you’re a street away. There is one a few doors down from you, but that would give us away. It is watching you drive by in your car as I wait to catch the ten-thirty. Do you check the rearview to see one last glimpse of me?
It is reaching out in a dream and feeling your absence, the space I thought was you grown cold as the morning coffee as I wonder what I have done by loving you.
It is wishing I had seen you first, but knowing one day it won't matter. One day is what I live for as I walk home in the dark, listen for your call, feel for your warmth and get off one street away from you and hope I am waiting for love and not disillusionment to stay.