It’s not supposed to be this way.
the confusion between us
leading me to words I’m afraid you’ll say.
You’re asleep on the couch but further
away then you were the night I drove us home from your favorite bar
two towns over from where you grew up.
Your head isn’t on my lap
with my fingers in your hair, humming a gentle melody
like your best friend played on his guitar the night we all sat in a circle in your mother’s living room.
It’s not supposed to be this way
counting down the hours only to then
actually regret the day.
Your arms holding a little higher on my waist,
our bodies not contouring into each other like they did
the summer we climbed that bridge and looked out
making the promise to never lose the feelings we had right then.
Your hand isn’t in mine
gently stroking your thumb across the top of my finger
like you did that warm September evening five years ago.
It’s not supposed to be this way,
questioning my decisions and thinking
I let you make the wrong choice last May.
As I sit here in silence with a tear starting to fall down my face,
I realize I’ve never been the one to not know what to say,
but all I can help but think is that I know
things weren’t supposed to end this way.