Am I not the longing that fills your nights
The cigarette smoke that floats in the air?
The half drunk glass of whisky laced with regret
Am I not in the invisible lines traced on the counter
By your fingertips
Is it not my name that escapes your lips?
Or in the music notes that drift in the background
The memories that play hide and seek
In the deepest corners of your mind
Or the lone droplets on your rain spattered windows
Was it ever about me? Was any of it?
Or maybe I'm simply being delusional...