laughter that shouts

When all the laughing turns to shouting,
when the clock hands stop at 3 a.m.,
I’ll still be sat there, waiting by the phone.

I clasped my hands together,
wishing one of them was yours,
while you weighed up your feelings and wondered whether it was all worth it.

You’ll go on your way,
I’ll go on mine,
and we’ll try to forget that there was ever a you and me.

We’ll move on,
find new other halves,
invest our time and feelings in someones other than each other.

But at the end of the day,
when the laughter turns to shouts and back,
it’s just you and me.

No one else can fill the void
left by five, six years of you and me.