Every morning, I would watch when you left the house. See you cross the road with a rucksack over your shoulder and a cigarette in your hand. Together, we would wait for the bus.
You always took the seat on the right, three rows back from the driver.
I’d watch until the bus disappeared from view. My private moment when I said goodbye. Knowing you’d be back, and I’d be waiting and watching. And loving you.
Today, I watch you leave.
Knowing you don’t want to come back.
Knowing all that we had has gone.
You always took the seat on the right, three rows back from the driver.
I’d watch until the bus disappeared from view. My private moment when I said goodbye. Knowing you’d be back, and I’d be waiting and watching. And loving you.
Today, I watch you leave.
Knowing you don’t want to come back.
Knowing all that we had has gone.
