Tomorrow is a glass half full.

Tonight is a memory.

I exhale with baited breath to find myself on my knees.

And I know it’s “worth it” if I die another day.

And I know there’s purpose in the things I choose not to say.

But it was you and me against the world until you were gone.

Now it’s me and me to fight alone and I’ll sing some lonely song. Maybe I should just face the truth that you’re gone.

Maybe I was the “missing one” all along.

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