The black kettle is going off in the kitchen
I can't bare to get off the couch and open the swinging door
He won't be there
Sitting at the old, scuffed wooden table with a cup of coffee

There will be no unread newspaper sitting by the bread
I won't find a ***** dish in the sink to clean once he's gone for the day
The spot where his work boots once sat by the door looks bare
It even smells different

I know it hasn't been long
But I already miss the smell of tobacco and gasoline
I miss the clutter that filled my now organized nightstand
I miss the comfort of having someone sleep by my side

But I was never good to you
And you weren't good to me
You said you would never love again
So why am I still scared to go in the kitchen
While you're someone else's man