in retrospect

I come here every day, I tell myself I enjoy it, that the solitude is good for my soul.
I sit, I smoke.
I tell myself  I’ll only stay a while, a few minutes, sometimes I believe myself , most times I don’t. Usually the dozens of discarded cigarette butts remind me mockingly of the many hours I have spent here.

It’s so peaceful here, in my place. The only sound I hear is the distant
rumble of cars and the crunching of my foot, lazily drawing circles in the dirt. The birds are even silent, it’s like they know. The summer breeze blows warm, like your breathe against my neck, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. If anything changes if anything differs from one day to the next, maybe, maybe my world will crumble.

Maybe I won’t come tomorrow. I tell myself that every day too. I make other plans in my head. I even smile at the prospect of doing something else. Then I have an obscure dream where you’re waiting for me, in my place. You are smiling and waving lovingly, as I approach. You look beautiful, the sun in your hair, your skin glowing in health. What if I don’t come and you are here?

So I come again the next day and the next, I can’t explain what runs through
my mind. It’s a mixture of calm and chaos. How long can I lie to myself? Will my denial cradle me for ever? In a way I hope so, it’s safe and warm in here. I will continue to come, to sit, and to wait. I am comforted by the thought that one day, one day you may be here, in my place waiting for me. If that is not to be, there are always my dreams.