This night

I sat on the floor outside your door, awaiting your return with nothing but a four-leaf clover on one sleeve and my heart on the other. I tapped timidly at first, but as the minutes turned to hours I knocked with my fists and the growing realization that I was, really, alone.

Nothing stirred in the darkness but despair, all I could hear was my heart beating through my ribcage, erratically. As the cold seeped through my coat and chilled my bones, I knew it, the four-leaf clover had let me down, you weren't coming home.

And so with your scent lingering in the air, I pulled myself up and walked down the stairs. Hoping to see your face at every turn. It wasn't until I reached the street outside, under the gloom of this cursed night, that I gave up hope.

You just never came home.