You were overburdened with the baggage of your your own loneliness while you left that night waiting for the last bus that takes you home. Laying down restless at your new house, bored with the very sight of the half empty bed beside you, your pillows crushed with the weight of your miseries and your sheets unruffled with signs of no sex and your clothes that hang on the fence, left aside as if unworthy of any female fragrance. Lust oozed out from your skin like sweat and love remained scarce as an endless famine.
You pull out a chair at the neighborhood bar, whiskey in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Ah, the cliche: the boy next door look; your blue jeans and white shirt. There she was, sitting perfectly curled up around the corner, sipping her friendly wine, with the same emptiness you left behind. You were instantly drawn to her reluctance and withdrawal while she was there waiting for someone who didn't know. You were wasted, staring into the infinite stretches of wilderness brushed across her face, stealing momentary glances of her sweetheart.
You would never know if she was coming back to life or falling deeply & irreversibly down the black hole of her little insecurities. You would never know if you don't take a chance now to make this moment yours. You would only know if you pulled her close, held her hand, swiped her hair that keeps falling carelessly across her face and stared into her ocean deep eyes and talk about things of absolute nothingness. Let her absorb the moment and let her soul be carefree and content; let the unchained smile spread faintly across her lips and a silent whisper touch your ear like a warm breath of sincerity. All of this you would never know, if, if right at this moment you let her wait for him; you let her go.