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Disappointment
I missed you.
Yesterday, when we saw each other, you wanted me to stay.
I thought you missed me, too.
Today, with all the eager anticipation of an eight-year old
I sat beside you. Still. Waiting.
What exactly am I waiting for? I ask myself silently.
For a hint that you are happy to see me?
That was stupid.
Today, you hurt me, unknowingly, of course.
You said I seem to be in a bad mood.
My dear, how utterly clueless you are.
