Mountains

We quietly pack our things as we shuffle around the house,
wondering where our jeans and shirts and shoes are,
shuffling in a numb sort of panic at what will be inevitable,
as we look around and then make our way downstairs to where you are,
and we look into your eyes as we both acknowledge the moment,
and with a silent sadness leave you as we walk out of the garage door,
and you follow behind us,
forgetting all at once how desperate and hopeless you are,
and without any hesitation we force the gas and drive off into the horizon,
the picture of you getting smaller in the side mirror,
and the hole in our hearts as empty as when we said our first goodbye.

RTH

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