By Heather  dreamheather@hotmail.com
Date: 25 March 1998

PHATOM WAITING

I am such a jerk, I hurt the one I love.
And in the process, I hurt myself.
I lost faith, I jumped the gun.
When I didn't hear those words,
I assumed this love was done.

God...
Why did I do that?
All I really needed to do
was be honest, with my words,
tell you what was in my heart.
Now it's too late.

While I held you, kissed you, loved you,
I waited.
Waited for you to tell me,
not when you could come back to me,
or even that you would.
But that you wanted to, sometime,
that this was not the end.
That you wanted to touch me, kiss me, hold me again.

I waited all that week, and into the next.
Through pizza at Spiritus in P'town.
Bike riding the Rail Trail.
Ferrying across the sound, back and forth to Nantucket,
with my cheek nestled in the crook of your neck.
Through pancake breakfasts at Friendly's.
Fish and chips at the SandWedge.
Through turkey with all the fixens', for dinner, at Mom's.

I even waited to hear it
while showering in the morning.
While walking the beaches during the day.
Or sitting on a bench, munching popcorn, in downtown Hyannis.
But I waited to hear it especially, when feeling such passion.
A passion, like I have never before known,
while I was wrapped so happily, in the circle of your arms.

As time wore on and I still didn't hear them,
more and more I started to panic.
"Is this all I will have, just ten days of this bliss?"
"Then a lifetime of his kisses to miss?"
"Is it me?"
"Am I the only one, feeling like this?"
Still I waited.

And waited.
Even started holding my breath, praying furiously,
talking to God, as fast as I could, asking for intervention,
while waiting still for those words.
Then by the end of your time here, it started.
The weeping.
Big, fat, hungry tears, falling and falling,
in streams down my cheeks, till you thought I was nuts.
Tears that even ten months later, after you've gone,
still fall.
Sometimes daily.

In my panic, I even told you to watch for that girl.
That girl, that I was sure, would want you as much, as I still do.
But she would have it much easier, be living right under your nose.
Where you could touch her, and kiss her, and hold her,
in a matter of minutes, and a few miles drive,
not hours, and a thousand miles,
by plane.
Where she would do it with smiles and laughter,
not apparently like me,
through falling tears, and a hunger, that still to this day,
feels very scarey.
I told you to watch for her, you deserved to be happy,
as I believe you still do, because even then, when I said it,
I already loved you,
and still.
I love you so much, I would send you to someone elses's arms,
if that'swhat you needed or wanted.
You cried and denied
that you wanted to do that.
But still you didn't tell me
you wanted to come and touch me again.

I could not ask you.
I wanted those words to come from you, freely.
Uncoerced, from your heart.
Not because I wanted to hear them,
but because you wanted to say them.

So I hoped against hope.
Hoped all the way through,
till the end.
Holding your hand in the car, memorizing each line in your palm,
staring, burning your features into my mind,
all the way to Providence, in the driving rain,
to that plane, that would take you away.
All during that drive, thinking,
"How appropriate."
"What's falling outside, feels the same, as what's falling inside."
Rain.
Just like the clouds, when full, can no longer hold it,
neither can my heart hold anymore hope.

Even there, at the airport,
as I kissed you goodbye,
and I held you, for what turned out to be, the very last time,
I was still waiting and hoping.
But I watched you walk away,
still without saying those words.
You flew home, leaving me not one clue,
one way or another.
Did our touching work?
Or,
would I not see you ever again?
All you said to me, when you held me, 
was,
"Be good."

And now
nearly a year later,
still my heart waits,
waits for those words.
While the rain of your leaving, still falls in my heart,
and my passion still waits, while wrapped in your arms, for your kiss.

Now afetr all this time you would think,
that my heart would believe my head when it says,
"Forget it."
"It's time to let go."
"His love is long gone, he's not coming back."

Yes God.
Now only Heaven can help me.
Yes, I'm a jerk.
No matter what I try, my heart just won't listen, giveup.
It still longs for those words, and waits.
It just may have to wait forever, 
for those longed for words, from my Phantom.
I can see now, as he gazes into my eyes and whispers ever so sweetly,
"Heather, I love you."
"I will be back."
"This affair is not over, it's only beginning."

Yes Wayne.
What a dreamer.
That's me.