Nights spent in my bedroom,
Sleeping on my chair
Because the imprint of your body lay
On my sheets and my pillows
And your imprint, with the absence of your body,
Is enough to make a grown woman cry.
Sleeping in my chair,
Dreaming about the day I let you become
The one that got away.
I wake up and break a sweat,
Or maybe those are just tears,
Because you’re gone,
And only your imprint remains...