I am the doubt that lives in your gut, in your heart, in your head; the everyday question of “what if she’d stayed instead?”
I am the storm that sweeps you off your feet when it’s well past midnight and your mind shouldn’t be wandering to me.
I am the rage of so many years gone to waste, and I’m the frustration and the heartache and the rain on your parade.
I am the “could’ve, should’ve, would’ve” girl you’ll never outrun; no matter who you turn to, I’ve always been your one.
I am the iceberg, the unknown, the secret that always stays, and I’m the sorry selfish thoughts you can’t get to go away.
I am the doubt that could ruin everything you’ve built; a seed of insecurity here to make your any other bloom wilt.