I knew you were gone when I said,
“Tell me a story”
and you said you didn't have any anymore.
I knew you were gone when I said,
“how was your day?”
and you responded with just “good.”
I knew you were gone when I told you about my day
and you didn't tell me to tell you more.
I knew you were gone when you said,
“Stop that. It annoys me.”
I never annoyed you before.
I knew you were gone when you said,
“all we ever do anymore is fight.”
I wish I knew how to stop that.
I knew you were gone before you even left.
I kept hoping we’d get better.
But we didn’t.
I knew you were gone when you said,
“Thank you for this.”