The Nights You Never Asked

You think it happened this morning.
When I laid my key beside the door.
You think I packed that little suitcase
'cause I couldn't take one minute more.
But leaving didn't start with footsteps.
It started lying next to you.
On nights I turned my face toward the window, and you never asked what I was going through.
I stayed in this house
long after love felt gone.
Sometimes a heart leaves quietly,
long before the body goes.
You lost me long ago.
I just hadn't left you yet.
I was sleeping right beside you,
while my heart slipped out of reach.
You lost me long ago,
piece by piece and didn't know.
Today I'm only walking out,
but baby, you lost me long ago.
Remember when my father called me,
and I cried there in the hall?
You kept watching that old television.
Never looked at me at all.
I told myself you were just tired.
That tomorrow you'd come around.
That's the night I stopped explaining
why I needed you around.
There wasn't one big moment.
No
single final blow.
Just a thousand little goodbyes you never seemed to know.
You lost me long ago.
Somewhere between "I'm fine" and bed.
Between the words I stopped explaining,
and the things we never said.
You lost me long ago.
I kept hoping you'd come close.
But every time you didn't see me,
a little more
of me let go.
Last night you finally looked at me.
Really looked and said, "Where did we go wrong?"
I wanted to be angry, but all I could think was, how did you not notice I was already gone?
You lost me long ago.
Not tonight, not at that door.
You lost me every time I needed you.
'Til I learned not to need you anymore.
You lost me long ago.
So don't ask me now to stay.
My suitcase isn't why I'm leaving.
It's only how I'm leaving today.
I put my key beside the door.
You looked at me like I'd broken your heart.
Maybe I did,
but mine had been breaking
so quietly.
You never heard it.