I said I couldn’t live without you but
you left me yesterday and I survived.
You’ll come to me tomorrow but I’ll shut
my eyes to shut yours out. You’re gone. I’m alive.
You’ll park the car, reach for my hand, and say
you were so wrong, you couldn’t say goodbye.
And then you’ll grab my chin, I’ll pull away
“Just drive,” I’ll say. Won’t look you in the eyes.
You’ll look at me that way you always do:
regret, the desperation written plain.
Then I’ll remember what I’d say to you
the morning after “headed separate ways:”
We’re meant to be, just dealing with past pain
Renew us after thunder, lightning, rain.