But maybe,
just maybe,
he comes back,
and everything is for the better.
Late nights, between flights,
early mornings between shifts,
and mid-afternoon talks about comic books.
Maybe he comes back,
and maybe we're okay.

Maybe he never left
and he still loves me.
Maybe he wants to be with me,
no matter the distance,
years, or people
telling me otherwise.

Maybe,
just maybe,
he's still mine.