I put your charger in my bag Your glasses folded with your shirt They asked me when the pain began I gave them times, I gave them words I moved the morning calls to noon Then pushed the afternoon away You told me I should get some sleep I said, “I’m fine, I’m gonna stay.” They took our address, took my name Asked who could drive me home I signed the lines they pointed to And waited there alone Somewhere between those doors and forms The words began to change “Your husband” turned to “his belongings” And nothing sounded strange I wasn’t done with tomorrow We had places left to go Coffee Friday, that stupid drive Little things nobody knows Now everybody asks what’s next Like next is mine to choose I wasn’t done with tomorrow I still had years with you Your shoes are where you left them last Your side of the bed is still unmade I washed your mug and put it back Like nothing here had really changed Seven clients need a call Two papers waiting to be signed I answer every one of them One at a time, one at a time I know the codes, I know the bills I know which lights we leave I know exactly how this house works Except for how to breathe I wasn’t done with tomorrow We had places left to go Coffee Friday, that stupid drive Little things nobody knows Now everybody asks what’s next Like next is mine to choose I wasn’t done with tomorrow I still had years with you You said, “Leave it. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Halfway down the hall There’s still a note beside the keyboard Three words, that’s all Pick up milk. I wasn’t done with tomorrow I hadn’t finished being us Now every sentence puts you behind me Like the past is where you belong They handed back your wallet Your watch, your keys, your phone I wasn’t done with tomorrow I wasn’t ready to go home I put my keys beside your keys Leave your jacket on the chair I make one cup of coffee And forget You won’t be there
