I thought I was over you.
But I still check my messages at two in the morning,
hoping your name will magically appear.
Asking me how my day went,
how I spent my afternoon.
Telling me you missed me.
I'm hoping.
I don't know why, but I still am.

I'm hoping you'll come back,
say sorry that you left me hanging.
I'd probably say it's okay,
that I didn't mind.
That we were both busy at that time,
and didn't really notice the silence slowly devouring us.
But I did and it hurt.
It hurt a lot.
But that's okay because it's you.
I could never be mad at you.

I'll always come back to you.