I’m still waiting for the fog to lift;
for me to find a path instead of staying adrift.
I used to have a future and a plan to match,
I used to have you to make up what I lacked.
And I thought I was free at last of your fog,
I thought that alone was the way to get along.
But every time you wrote to me, I broke down again
I guess my confidence was just an illusion of strength.
So each time we spoke, I tried to make myself hard,
tried to brace myself for words that always pierced sharp,
But it’s strange now because seeing you doesn’t hurt;