Soft Walking Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

I heard you going.
Your soft shoes making
delicate flashes on the floor.
My breathing was heavy
with the scent of dismissal.
Why did you come if you
planned to flee?
Sometimes the air is
as soft as you leaving.
I sense that it talks
but I am unable to
understand the words.
Heavy with hope the coping
suggests you are
returning soon.
Door is unlocked.
Sitting in the chair,
watching to see if
it opens.
When will you be back?