It gnaws at me, the question
For you answer in suggestions
And my feet are a cliff – but should I leap?

I think to that November
Wondering if you remember
What we said before you left to go to sleep

For all the hesitation
And the stinging resignation
There is but a single question stirring deep

Forsaking any closure
If we had to do it over
Are there any parts of me you’d want to keep?