I keep telling myself this will be different I'll write about healing, growing older, happier endings About quiet mornings spilling through my room And the people who stayed when you didn't I swear I've finally found enough distance To tell a story without your shadow in it But somewhere between the first sentence and the last You come back like my hands never learned another habit Every metaphor reaches for you Every silence sounds like you Maybe that's what happens When someone changes the language of your life I keep trying to write around you But every page circles back somehow Maybe I'm not holding on to you Maybe I'm just holding on to the person I was with you Maybe one day these pages won't be yours Maybe they'll belong to somebody else Or to no one at all Maybe I'll finally write a story That doesn't begin where you ended But I'm not there yet (hope that's okay) Cause the writing is still about you With you, to you, because of you, for you I still tell myself this will be different That I'll outgrow the things I couldn't undo Maybe tomorrow I'll write about forever Without your shadow in the room But tonight, every page begins and ends with you Yeah, still about you With you To you Because of you For you
