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you tell him to go, but you don’t mean it. you tell him to go because it’s the right thing to do (since when have you ever done the right thing for the sake of your conscious, though?), but maybe he won’t listen to you. he never listens to you. you want him to stay, to fight for you. maybe it’s a lot to ask, maybe you should just be content that he’s not fighting with you for once.
but for once in his fucking life, he listens. he listens, and he leaves, dropping a kiss on your forehead before he slips out the door and into the night. back to his house, back to his sweet domestic life - the one he never wanted with you - back to the wife he’s been faithful to for another night (despite your persuasions).
maybe there’s no grand, happy ending for you two. maybe it’s a quiet, softer ending. maybe there’s only gray left. neutral and calm is anything but what you’ve always been, but maybe that’s why it’s never worked for very long before. you’ve tried to be everything and nothing to each other, but neither of those work. maybe you’re meant for dinners on a sunday night, watching his kids swim in your pool on a summer afternoon, and nights in the recording studio that don’t hit a dangerously honest hour. maybe this is how it’s supposed to be between you two.
you crawl into your empty bed and you don’t dream of him tonight.