Tomorrow Morning
Tomorrow morning you'll wake up, everything exactly the same
It's only 7:00am
You'll go through the motions, wear that same hoodie that you always do
You'll walk to school, earbuds in, arriving just barely on time
And now it’s already 9:00
Then the bell will ring and you'll go to period one. Biology.
Sitting at our side-by-side spots.
But I won't be sitting there with you. I always hated biology.
So next you'll send me a text or two, and I won't reply. You'll start taking notes, thinking nothing of it, cause why would you need to?
Now it’s10:00am
You'll wonder where I am, cause I never miss school. You'll call me, it'll go straight to voice mail. Then you're on to period two.
So I won’t show up that day. I must have slept in, missed my alarm, that would make sense, right? I must have just needed a day off, cause after all I’m only sixteen.
But the next day I won't be there either. It's 11:00am. English. My favorite class. I have to be out sick.
So then you'll call again, cause we always talk on the phone. But I won’t call you back.
By now you start to worry, cause now it's 3:00 o'clock. Two days missed, and you wonder where I am.
People start to talk, and they ask you the next day where I am. But all you can say is that you don't know.
It's 6:00pm now. You just finished the chemistry homework we usually do together. You’ll look at my instagram, but I haven't been on it.
Then you’ll send me a reel you know I would laugh about, but I won't ever actually see it.
Now it's 8:00, and you stare at your phone, wondering why there's no new messages from me.
News articles will start popping up. Just the latest. And for a moment, you'll be confused.
Why are there pictures of me? Why are all the headlines calling it a tragedy?
But quickly it'll set in, you'll be in disbelief, and suddenly you can't breathe.
There's a memorial post. Time of death and cause. You'll wonder how I could do that to me, to you.
Later, once your head is light from tears you can’t control, you'll drive to my house. Maybe you'll sit outside of it for a while, willing yourself to go in, somehow having to believe I won't be there. You'll read the last "I love you" and "I'm sorry" I'll ever have written.
But your life will go on. Weeks will pass. You'll graduate, then move away. You'll go to university.
You'll get married. You'll start a family
And I'll be so proud of you.
And I hope that you'll always think of me, waiting for me to come back.
Even though I'm never coming back.
Copyright © Becky West | Year Posted 2025
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