Was It Worth The Wait

Late bus, rain glass forward to the windowpane.

Backpack ticket stub, your name on the phone again.

Streetlight flickers like a heartbeat out of frame.

Library steps, you said someday then missed the train.

Kept every voicemail in a box of folded notes.

Blue ink promises that smudged where rivers flowed.

Small town ceiling felt too low for bigger dreams.

I chased escape routes in the margins of my jeans.