I got off work last night and walked into the house that resides in my heart. I was surprised to find everything in such disarray, and you were nowhere to be found. I sat alone and wondered when you would be back, if you would be back. I was a mess and I needed you, for then and forever. My tears were fierce and my sobs long and sorrowful. "He's not returning," I thought to myself just before I passed into a dreadful slumber.
"Ding dong," the doorbell yelled and startled me awake. I rubbed my eyes, walked to the door, and could see your body through the peephole. I opened the door slightly, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry," you said with a half grin and a shrug. I pushed the door far enough to let you in and then we made our way to the sofa.
"Why did you take your things without so much as a goodbye? What did I do?" I asked frantically trying to makes heads or tails of our situation. "I left because... because I didn't want to be left," he blushed in embarrassment of his own words, "I sort of... beat you to the punch." My forehead wrinkled as I looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean? I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to leave, ever."
He took my hand in his and said, "I just need a little bit of time, at least."
"Promise me you'll come back," I pleaded.
"I love you. I promise."
He gathered what little was left of his belongings and made his way out of the home inside my heart. From a nearby window, I watched him get into his van and drive away; all the while reassuring myself that he would return soon enough.
Tonight, I'm here on the sofa again.
