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Monday, September 14, 2015

Not Yet

Not yet he said as he casually thumbed through a travel magazine he picked up at the dentist's office.
He needed time to consider the color of socks he would wear tomorrow.
Not yet she said, as she highlighted another passage in her self help book with the frayed edges and torn cover. She wondered how she could find the help she needed to heal.

Not yet he said when he forgot to call because he was at the carnival and a clown had his phone. I had a great time at the circus he said, you should have been there.
Not yet she said as she sat starting at a Thank You note yet to be written, tears held at bay. The gift wasn't what she wanted, but the knitted cat sweater was lovely.

 Not yet he said with a small smile, and promise in his eyes. He believed she would wait until the rain came again and hope bloomed like wildflowers.
Not yet she whispered as she fell asleep with her knees pulled up into her chest, hugging them tightly. She had grown comfortable with being alone, though she still wished for loving arms around her.

Not yet he said, it will all become clear sooner than you think. It had only been a minute in his opinion, though the calendar showed months had passed. 
Not yet she said as she stopped reaching and stood still. She was tired, and looked forward to an afternoon nap.

Not yet he said as he waved from the ferry leaving the dock. 
Not yet she yelled, as a two-bit thief tore her heart from her hands and threw it in the trash after clearing out the memories hidden in the side pocket. She retrieved her heart from the trash and walked back to the train station.

Not yet she said after she found her courage in a box on the top shelf of her closet.

Not yet he said, she didn't hear him.