"Without you I'm not me".
I can picture that being said outside of a window, in the rain. The other side of the window doesn't agree. If it does, only slightly as some pain or fear holds the reins. The outside of the window has tears hidden, perfect disguise. The car engine is running because they are expecting to be sent back to their dark porch of regret. The engine seems to know better than the outside of the window and your heart cringes at the thought. Trees bow in empathy, the cold wind resists blowing icy drops in their face, hoping to add no more insult. The curtains are replaced to put the final nail in the coffin. The outside holds it's breath on the off chance that the inside is running to the front door in a sudden release of emotion, something they had been withholding for this exact moment. Minutes pass, limbs start to feel the cold as they are improperly attired in the mad rush to this window. A heart beats slower, trees bow deeper, wind stops but that old rain keeps on the symphany of despair, of irreparable breaking. Eyes close, open, seek shelter, shift to drive and head back to not being themselves. Its going to take a while.