Here I am,
sitting in the same place I've always been.
Or at least been waiting
so many times before.
And here I am,
wondering why I'm not yet headed for that door.
I keep thinking you'll come through it.
That you want me somehow.
And still I know the air is cold,
the past we've left behind growing faint
in our memories.
And yet here I am,
still not moving on.
Still waiting,
just in case you're not really gone.
