Wait for You.

His hair was disheveled that day, as if he hadn't got any rest at all.

Enchanting wisps of honey splayed in different directions, matted and unkempt.

You'd think he would've slept well now that he was rid of her.

But she kept crawling back, taunting-
threatening, beady little blue eyes glaring so deep it could have captured his soul.

His heart was twisting painfully, mangled and pulverized.

He was hauled into and interlaced with a web of dejection.

But he stayed strong, and he ended it for good.

He realized how tied down he was.

And he came to me in search of comfort. He wanted to forget.

I only patted his back lightly twice, not daring to look into his eyes.

I was fearful of what I might find.

Would I see the love he thought he had for her?

Would I see pain? Regret? Sorrow? Loneliness?

I didn't want to look up.

But I did. I couldn't help myself.

And his eyes were perfectly clear.

They were still the hazel mess I always find myself swimming in. They were void of any tears, no sign of being bloodshot.

And he whispered, "Will you wait for me?"

I'd wait for you if it meant taking my last breath.