I could have held onto you,
and I should have.
But I was worried,
no, worried isn't the word,
I was petrified.
Petrified that you would want me gone,
like a dog wants rid of its fleas.
I felt just like that flea, the itch on your back;
all you needed were the correct drops and I would die off.
So I replaced you before you could replace me.
Someone passed me by wearing the same cologne you once did,
and it got me thinking...
Maybe you never wanted me gone at all.