I sit here, alone in Arkansas,
Trying not to believe he’s let me go.

The iron pellets of rain pierce my chest,
But I sort of get used to it, by now.
And the highway blurs down to the faded hills,
And a grey glare glows in the sober sky.

I lift a hand to my shoulder to check,
No slender hand grasps me so close.
And I feel the pristine tears scar my face,
Trying not to believe he’s let me go.

The sky is obliterating into shreds of black,
But I sort of get used to the ice cold.
And the waterfall pounds against the rocks,
As I try to ease the pain I can’t put out.

I lift a hand to my mouth to check,
No full lips are pressed against mine.
And I feel the quaking sadness explode,
Trying not to believe he’s let me go.

I sit here, alone in Arkansas,
Trying not to believe he’s let me go.