"So you 're leaving in the morning on the early train

I could say everything's alright

And I could pretend and say goodbye

But that would be lying

Cause I can't stop loving you

No I can't stop loving you

No I won't stop loving you

Why should I even try?" ~Phil Collins, Can't Stop Loving You.
You're gone.

I hug my knees close to me, and stare at the clock hanging on the wall barely visible in the iridescent moonlight. Is it too late or too early? I cannot tell. It feels too early, as my eyelids are barely open after the small amount of sleep I just awoke from. But it feels too late as well. I wonder if you saw the tearstains in our pillow. How pathetic do you think I am now.? The emotionless Leonheart who cried and begged you not to go, as though I would whither away and die if you were not here. It was a terrible thing I tried to do, wasn't it? You cried, too. What kind of hell have I put you through that makes you need to be away so badly? You like to solve your problems far, far away from me.

I find myself aching with the wish that I could be the one you run to.

Yesterday we both woke up at scant past eight. We had worn out the previous night with fights and tears, and neither of us spoke in the morning. I could tell you did not want me to see you off, but you didn't say anything. I allowed myself that one selfish thing. I knew well I couldn't stop you. So we rode there together, in enough silence to fill a thousand miles without you even going. The train station arrived in a hundred silent years. We climbed out, and you turned without a second glance. I watched you numbly as you boarded the train.

That whistle must have broken a thousand hearts.

I couldn't watch as the train sped off, and I didn't stop to see where it was going. I stared at the gray worn pavement of the parking lot and watched the world blur until I was tear-blinded. You won't know how much that hurt me. You won't know that I sat on the cold steel bench at the train station for three hours until I could bring myself to drive home.

And now it's three o'clock in the morning. Three o'clock too late, I guess. Because I love you. I still love you. I don't think I'm even going to try stopping. I can't. I hear the clock chiming, I can see slivers of light from the moon cast all over this empty bed. I'll wait for you. It's all I can do.