Gate 24,
Flight to New Orleans,
The people crowd it,
The planes boarding,
I watch you walk away.
You're wearing those dark jeans,
The same ones you wore when I met you,
I wonder if you even realize it,
You're still walking.

The suitcases roll across the ground,
You're carrying your red back pack,
The one we carried that late night we were together,
I want you to grasp it,
Just like I want to,
But honestly, I just want you to hold.

Stopping at the ramp,
You sent a text that said,
"I can't look at you,
you know,
I won't be able to go."
Then you were gone,
You kept walking.