Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

That night at a friend’s house,

I reached for your hand — you froze,

our fingers clutched

and you glanced up, smiled, and said, stay here awhile.

As the night went on, we were stuck like glue,

and those feelings of being inevitable were so brand new.

When we laid down, you kissed me goodnight

and asked me what about you did I like.

The way you looked out the front door

when the oven went ding,

for the cookies we made that New Year’s Eve.

The rest of the night we made out;

Unchained Melody played in the background

as you stole all my doubts.

When the night was over and we said goodbye,

you called for a week to say more than hi.

I came to see you for two whole days;

we slept on a mattress and floated into space.

The evening I left, the rain came down,

the leaves were all wet; we were a mess.

I heard from you a few more times,

and Unchained Melody plays in my mind.

Now, all these years have gone by,

and I’m still back there, without a goodbye.