Do you see the defeat in the shrug of my shoulders? Do you see the sadness in the blinks of my eyes?

I like to think you do. I like to think that the second I give up is the second you step forward and shout "Darling, wait!" and that I'll hesitate. And I'll doubt that you've very much good to say, but I've already hesitated, pulled sharply by those words, and you see the opportunity to catch me now, before I beat my wings and flutter away yet again. So you'll wrap your arms around my shoulders, and you'll apologize. You'll tell me that from now on, you'll listen and you'll see, and never again will I feel so useless, so ignored, so unwanted.

I almost believe that's what you'll do. I'm marvelous at conjuring these pictures, aren't I? The kind of pictures you can almost walk into, that if you let out a kick, it will halt at a tree. I'm good at this, because I have to be.

Because if no one real will see the dismay in my heart and the tremble on my lips, at least I can still imagine someone doing so.

And telling me that it's alright.

Shouting "Darling, wait!" and at those words, I'll hesitate.


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