My writings: The bittersweet taste of Love: The Waiting


We are going to a party.
If I could, I wouldn’t
but the appearance
of being normal
is important to me.

I want to be normal
and normal people
go to their friends'

But they talk to you,
not me.
My words are small
and meaningless.

I know you don't

I know
because you said so.

Now my words are
even smaller,
even more meaningless.


My glass
is made of stone.
A hard and heavy stone.
The wine is arsenic.

My mouth is dry
without saliva.
My tongue lies
glued and motionless,
unable to speak,
unable to move.

My feet can't move.
I can't go to the door.
I can't leave the room.
I can only stay
and listen
to their words,
to your words.


I wish I was her.
That it was me
you laughed with.
Now I'm only
your partner.
The one
you come home to.
The one
who waits for you,

but she,
she is the warm
glittering laugh,
that makes you laugh,
that makes you warm,

and I,
I'm the one,
who patiently

waits for my turn.


I wanted to be yours.
I wanted to be
the one you wanted.

I bought the dress
you said
made me beautiful.
I put on the shoes
you bought for me
and the perfume
"Esprit d'Oscar"
to remind you
of our first date.

But you were tired
as you always are
and you didn't
even mention
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume.

The next day
I put on
the dress, the shoes
and the perfume

you didn't
even notice
that I left.

I went
to a friend
a willing friend
and had sex.

when I came home
you didn't notice me
what would you
have said
if you did,

did I betray you

did you betray me …

By © Dolores Meden 2017