I caught myself speeding up and passing other cars
a need to hasten to be where you are,
and then I realized I was racing faster than I should
and there isn’t anything special about empty walls.
There’s nothing special about the echoes of laughter,
and I can’t help to think of how we’ve fought,
and made up and loved each other again and again.
And there I was, frantically speeding down the road
to the ghosts and emptiness that swallow me whole.
So I slow my pace and watch the headlights swim past,
let them go fast around me to their happy destinations.
and when I turned onto our road, I crept and crawled
trying not to hurry to the place you left me all alone
to the empty bed where I can feel the ghost of your body
and I can still smell you in my sheets.
The bed’s too new and I’m bereft of the imprint of you.
Where are you and who’s hearing your voice and sharing your laughter?
How shall I pass the winter cold?
There’s nothing warm to hold me dear, no arms or legs or soles pressed tight to mine.
No kisses or heartbeats shared.
And I arrive at the door, with my keys in my hand,
I’m frozen still, just trying to listen to the echo of your memory.
Your footsteps on the floor, or your voice through the door,
but there is nothing, you’re not here anymore.
I’ve made it past the threshold, we’ve crossed so many times,
my hand in your hand, my heart in your pocket.
I’m inside now, locked up tight,
sad and sick I wait out the night,
and I know I’ll be awake at 2, just like I always do,
waiting for you.
but you’re not coming here,
and I have no home, just a ruin.