I don’t know if I’m going to all our old places,
our old stomping grounds,
to try to find you.
Maybe I’m half expecting you'll materialize like a ghost.
Maybe I’m just looking for some semblance of a sign,
a sign that you ever even existed.
That we ever even existed.
That what we had was real.
Or, maybe I’m just trying to find myself again.
Tracing back each step to all those places,
to prove I’m more than the things you did to me.
I’m so much more than the broken pieces of my being
you left behind as breadcrumbs for me to find.