Opening the door gently
Sliding my body onto the cold leather seats
I don’t know where I’m going,
but my hands do
My foot rhythmically switches from the brake to the gas
Something it’s done a million times
but it seems to be a little out of practice
There’s snow falling
As if to cover up my tracks
It knows I shouldn’t be here
In what seems like an instant,
my headlights illuminate your street sign
and suddenly I’m conscious again
I don’t remember driving to your house,
but I’m not surprised that’s where I ended up

I don’t sleep at night
Not while I know there’s someone else in your dreams

When I drive home,
I think of our cars in the garage,
adjacent from each other
our toothbrushes,
placed next to each other by the sink

Suddenly everything comes in pairs
Kindness and anger
Light and dark
Salt and sugar
Me and you

I have been to 27 concerts,
and nothing compares to the feeling of listening to music in your car
I have watched the sunset on a beach,
And no color has caught my attention as much as the green in your eyes
I have traveled to 15 countries,
and nothing makes me more nervous than the 10 steps from my front door to where you stand waiting

When I was a kid,
I used to be jealous of people with dimples

Now I have dimples
And they’re beautiful
They’re just not mine

When I look at the world,
from 38,000 feet,
in between the patches of clouds,
I think about us
And our little life
And how the pieces must have aligned perfectly
The moment we met

I’m not sure I could tell you where my birthmark is
But I could trace ridges on your palms
I could list your tattoos
I could tell you which cheek has dimples
and the way your laugh sounds
They say no one knows you better than yourself,
but I have no idea who I am without you