Maybe I stopped being myself after you left.
Maybe I still feel your fingerprints on my chest.
Maybe that’s why I type so much but could never hit send.
Maybe I don’t know where to begin or where to end.

Maybe I miss the dream we lived in.
Maybe that’s why the rain feels colder on my skin.
Maybe my shot at making it through was none.
Maybe I was just so afraid I wasn’t the one.