the second girl, waiting

torn fabric lets the light in
old curtains hang on the windows
slightly askew
she stands there 
the second girl, waiting
with her back to the wall
leaning into the moment
one hand braced behind

light becomes distraction
playing along the wall with abandon
the second girl shifts in place
watches the shadows join in
to stretch and pull the hours 
that are left in the day

they walk in, hand in hand
He looks around the room
the second girl looks up
tilts her head to listen
they stand too close
talking about their lives
he laughs too loudly 
she knows he watches her
over his wife's shoulder
trying to catch her eye

Watch hands march slowly
another second, hour, minute, month
passes filled with quiet laughter
love exchanged like secret seeds on the wind
the game stretched thin 
to inevitable fading pale light at dusk
She reaches out to hold nothing 
in her hands
Memory and a handful of words
left to float in the ether
No one knew the thread between them
delicate
untouched
unchecked
uncut
undone

She stands there, the second girl
alone with her thoughts
unclear in the aftermath
what remains 
unsaid
lost
forgotten

She remembers
the scar of a tear
she made
in the curtain
made to let the light in

she remembers
always being
the second girl,
waiting
~

7/100

Published by Leigh-Anne Fraser

writer, poet, photographer, artist, illustrator, knitter,friend and fine pancake flipper

One thought on “the second girl, waiting

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