In four more days I'll be gone, gone, gone. You'll be two days out from the last time you saw me, and you won't realize it until three days later. In four more days I'll be a week behind my realization that I'll miss you, a week and three
(more) days before I convince myself I'm better off alone. You'll be two weeks away from calling me in the middle of the night while you slur your words and beg my forgiveness. I'll get your messages (1, 2, 3, 100, 1,000, my entire voicemail and then some, all yours) the next morning and my name will be on your lips (where it should have been, where hers were). But your name will not be on my lips, my heart, my mind.
Four days from now and a year ago I left you and started my life again. Four more days and I celebrate my independence day. (less)
