There Is

The regret never quite sunk in, it sort of faded in the belief that he would be back someday. It felt as though there had never been as much promise in anything as there was in the love I had for him. Hopeless to his every word, weak for the life I thought he would give me. There is this realm of waiting that I stood in for so long, and in it I only made room for him. He never showed up. I stayed in a trust absolutely blinded by adoration, certainty. Somewhere in the pit of my logic, I knew he'd never come. But at that point, I would rather have been waiting all my life for him than spend a moment of it pretending to love somebody else. I became incapable. Only now do I see how make-believe it all was, how I made him an anchor to my life, holding it still and in place. A piece of me has accepted never to find a love as unconditional as ours, the rest of me fears it never truly existed.