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Writer's pictureJane Prinsep

Worth The Wait

Cold, empty, winter days In a house bought for two She silently, patiently waits Marking time with her pain

Immaculate in his absence She makes a home for one Whilst a smiling bride and groom Watch her pitifully from the wall

In pursuit of a life-long Antarctic dream; Summers with scientists beside icebergs He pleadingly requests her blessing Whilst sliding her easily into the cold

A trick question, a trip-wire, a trap She ponders a choice; without choice With only one true sacrifice; hers As he already turns his back to leave

Alone; her love as solid as concrete A pillar of support in the face of onlookers Her conversation only justification On behalf of the man who abandoned her

She sits warming herself in cosy denial Day-dreaming of their postponed future Plans for two, masterminded by one The balance of equality toppling slowly

Pushing her forgotten needs into wasteland She is deliberate in not noticing The sorrowful elephant in the corner That is her now part-time marriage

Two years, two months and two days; The time it takes for her to acknowledge The ocean of misery in which she now swims Finally welcoming the current that takes her under

Unknowingly entering last chance saloon He returns to her, his only gifts; Carefully-wrapped indifference And a magnum of bitter tastes

Summer spent in a warmer climate Sees only uncomfortable, record lows Three months of desperate floundering In a relationship now dead in icy waters

Beaten; she packs her smallest belongings Taking lightweight treasures of a decade; Symbols of a future once promised Now reneged, swiftly and clinically

She drives a hired vehicle alone; Her life neatly boxed inside To a strange city and a fresh start As a number; devoid of history

Leaving behind furniture lovingly restored Whilst a nameless, faceless other, calmly places Her toothbrush and perfume in a cupboard Stained only days before by teak oil and a wife’s tears

Promises to collect the last of her things Are deemed unnecessary by his generosity; Giving away to others the last evidence of her Erasing her in seconds, no trace to remain

She scours unknown streets in need of a home In reality, wanting only a warm bed In which she can sleep, hoping never to awake Having given her last; no more to spend

Bags unpacked; she stands in tourist central Excited sightseers of the world unite To marvel at the history and vibrancy Invisible amongst them; she quietly dies inside

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