As you lay here in my arms, I can’t help but wonder if you picture her here in my place.
My mind keeps bringing up scenarios of the two of you. I try hard to push back at them, but they always find a way to run wild.
Maybe you do instinctively think she will be here.
You stop yourself from calling out her name instead of mine.
When you reach out for my hand, a part of you still hopes it’s hers.
I keep dangling these maybes that make my mind a living hell, and there’s nothing I can do about it.