I’m falling for you again,
even though you’re miles away,
and I have no idea who’s lying beside you
when the night wraps its arms around you.
But memory, sharp and clear,
still recalls the way your hand
used to rest on my stomach
so gentle, so sure,
like it belonged there.
I’m falling for you,
for something I don’t even know anymore.
I’m falling for a version of you
that’s never coming back.
A memory that keeps pulling me under,
even though I know
it’s a love that ended
before it really began.

I’m falling for the absence of you,
for the space between us
that stretches farther every day,
but still feels too close some nights.
I’m falling for what we had,
or maybe what we never had,
but could have had,
if only the timing was different,
if only we had been who we needed to be.

I’m falling for a memory
that’s beginning to blur,
a love I’m still holding onto,
even though I know it’s fading.
But I can’t let go
not yet, not when it still feels like you’re here.
And maybe, just maybe,
I’m falling for the idea
of what we could’ve been,
even if that idea is all that’s left.