When you’re clean-shaven and have the world in your hand,
I’ll still be here, 5 steps behind.
When your next flight to New York lands,
I’ll have cancelled mine.
Time passes quickly not under your arm
not independent, but passing the days,
I wake up each day and ignore my alarm,
functional when I need someone to stay.
You asked if you could spend a weekend,
and I know my bed is the shelter you need.
You’d hold me and tell me it’s ok if it ends
if today it gives us love and gives us peace.
I told you I couldn’t,
apologized for the pain,
You said you knew it,
and you’re moving away.