You Were Already Gone

You Were Already Gone
God & Man

Tonight is different. We sleep in each other’s arms. This is what I wanted all along. But none of that matters anymore.

Tomorrow morning is it. No snoozing or snuggling or incoherent morning conversations as we tease about who will actually get up first. There won’t be sipping coffee on the porch as we stand together and watch the neighborhood wake up.

We won’t pretend that we can ‘just be friends.’ We’ll revert to strangers. We’ve been slowly letting each other go for months now. I won’t pretend that we’ll try again, once we live a little more life, because living more life will really take us away.

The sun peaks in through the large window waking me up too early as usual. I see you standing there holding my bag. My first thought is it’s your bag and you’re off to work; you’ve stopped to give me a sweet kiss goodbye. But the last time you kissed me was months ago.

We walk to my car in silence, and I try to pretend that we’re running out again, desperate to get the car so we can speed to the theater to make it to the movie on time. We choke back tears as we give each other a quick hug. You don’t always know when you’re seeing someone for the last time. But I know this time.

Just like that, you’re on the sidewalk watching me leave. As I pull off, I look for you in the mirror, but you’re gone.

You were already gone. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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