Maybe I'll eat a sandwich even after I know you've gone to sleep, and maybe I'll keep buying you presents everywhere that I ever visit, maybe I'll pretend you keep giving me shot glasses from each place that i know you've been, maybe I'll think of you each night before I can fall asleep and maybe even then I'll see you in my dreams. maybe I'll write stories of you what we've done and what we could've done, and maybe I'll write you letters like I always have but never showed you, maybe I'll smell you and hear you and taste you in everything that I do. maybe I'll find your old grey sweater and smile at the things you always left behind, maybe I'll fall asleep with my hand clasped in its other since yours isn't here anymore, maybe I'll hear the songs we loved to sing even if I can't really hear them without you listening too. maybe I'll taste that *** you always drank, puckering perfect lips because it tastes like ***** and good memories, maybe I'll see 'your city' again remembering what my first lobster tasted like, and maybe I'll get a bruise and it will remind me of how much messy fun I always had being around you. maybe I'll fall in love again. and maybe so will you. maybe I'll be happy again. and maybe so will you.