You should have been there. You should've burst through the door with that, "Baby, I'm right here" smile, and it would have felt like a million little shining stars that just aligned, and I would've been so happy. 

Christmas lights glisten, I've got my eye on the door just waiting for you to walk in. But the time is ticking. People ask me how I've been as I comb back through my memory, how you said you'd be here.  You said you'd be here. 

It was like slow motion, sitting there in my party dress, in red lipstick, with no one to impress. And they're all laughing as I'm looking around the room, but there was one thing missing. That was the moment I knew. 

The hours pass by, now I just want to be alone but your friends always seem to know when there's something really wrong, so they follow me down the hall. And there, in the bathroom, I try not to fall apart and the sinking feeling starts as I say helplessly, "He said he'd be here." 

You call me later and you said, "I'm sorry I didn't make it." And I said, "I'm sorry, too." And that was the moment I knew.