The refrain plays through my mind as I drive south, remembering. Remembering the good times, when love was new and I didn't want to be apart from you for a minute. You were a part of me, a part that I hadn't known I was missing until you stepped into my life.
I can still feel your hand grasping mine that first time in the darkness of the theater. My heart fluttered in my chest and all I could think was, "This isn't happening. It can't be." But it was and so I was yours and you were mine.
I know the times weren't all good. We had our share of fights, of heartache and pain. But we managed to get through it together. Until one day, we just couldn't.
I still don't know what happened. You became distant. Or maybe I did. All I know is that I woke up one day and something was different. When I told you, "I love you," the words words felt foreign on my lips. When you repeated them back, they held a note of insincerity.
Would we have worked it out? Would we have been able to work past this? Who's to say. Now it's too late to ever know.
But I like to think that somewhere, some other you and some other me did work it out. Our other selves didn't allow the distance to remain but fought for what they once held. The other me never had to be without the other you.
I slow as I come to the gates of the cemetery, but speed up again without turning in. I've said all there is to say.
