I think I long for a life so disastrous that you'd call me back.
I think it hurts, the presence of your heavy footsteps on my soul.
I think that my mundane life can carry the guilt of leaving.
But I think I drove off the road.
I forgot to tell you that I love you.
I only stared at you until you disappeared from the airplane window.
Your echo over my head, inside my head - I live frightened.
I carry a presence that is so weary of any mistake, careful not to breathe life into your white lies again.
I am very well aware of my contradictions; I think that is why I will never let you go.