It felt like standing under a sky that promised rain, Only to stay completely dry and gray I waited with my hands open, Almost certain something would drop But the empty air made me stop. I began to close my fingers not because i wanted to, But because holding them open started to hurt. I got sick of waiting patiently for something that won't ever arrive Got sick of searching keys for the door that never supposed to be open Sick of staring at the folded clothes i never wore And packed bag that never left the floor. So I stopped looking for the key, stopped knocking, stopped the sound Let the silence settle all around. I closed the door, not because of hate Just got tired of standing, tired of wait