No one told me it would be like this.
Waiting for silence…
for the space in between,
for the moments after.
No one told me that regret would be a feeling
I’d have to deal with,
feel guilty for,
be ashamed of.
No one told me I wasn’t cut out for this.
Maybe because that isn’t something you say,
or maybe they just didn’t know.
Like me, completely naive.
No one told me because it’s not something that’s talked about,
or maybe it’s just few and far between.
I’m the odd one out.
I can’t even bring myself to say it out loud.
No one told me it would be like this…
This little poem is in response to “Waiting for a poem…” Over at D’verse Poets Pub
“Tonight, I want you to write a poem of anticipation.”