Pass Over

Infant on the off chance that you ever miss me, 

You'll discover in the rundown of your second thoughts. 

In the middle of all the I Love yous you addressed me, 

You'll see me on the fleece surface of my scars 

Or then again in the setting of our recollections 

I'll be hanging tight for your grip in each embrace 

The smell of your skin still stuck to the sheets 

I see you on the bed and on the sofa 

I see you in my morning espresso and 

Hear your voice in the tunes we tuned in 

We used to be all over 

Presently you're rarely here.