When optimism fails me

We wait here, in this
series of softly paritioned rooms.
I haven't seen these people
in a while, but I wish now that
I didn't have to.

We're waiting for something.
No one is quite sure for what.
Maybe for him to
get better, or maybe for
something else, something that's
as of yet
unspoken.

When I saw him, smooth stones
gathered underneath my mouth.
They hurt me
so bad,
but I guess maybe the dam
hurts the river.

He looked just like he did
in my dream, the dream in which
he hugged me, hugged me tight,
didn't let me go when I
wanted to, until I surrendered and
hugged him back.

Then he told me not to cry, so I'm
doing my best.

These words are getting to me, though,
and the stones fall back into place
one by one. I wash them away with
vending machine concessions, but sooner
or later
it'll be me in the bathroom alone
breaking my promise.