I remember that ride home.
It hadn't registered to me until after our last excursion that it was really over between you and me.
And I remember feeling like I couldn't breath.
I wanted so bad to lean over and kiss you like I always had before.
But I couldn't bring myself to it.
The radio that usually played as background noise was now the main melody.
The only sound coming from either of our lips is humming to the song.
The silence was unbearable.
I wanted this car ride to end immediately.
But I also didn't.
We hit my street and approached my driveway.
And as we pulled up the hill of my driveway,
I knew this was the last time you'd drive up it.
Not a kiss,
not even a hug goodbye.
You waved bye in a half hearted manner.
And I unlocked my front door.
I had come home early and no one was home.
I stared and watched your headlights grow farther and farther away.
I wanted to run after you.
But I guess when it's over;
there's no point fighting it.
I watched you pull out and your red Saturn drive down my street.
For the very last time.
I guess there's no point
extending an inevitable goodbye.