on sleepless roads

i was driving home while the sun was setting in my mirror. the death red of a beautiful winter sun stretched out in endless abandon. i thought of you. i thought of your face, the way you feel near me, the sound of your voice in the morning. but i wondered to myself "does he really think of me? did he spend a day rolling over images of me in his mind? was i all he was thinking of? was he telling the truth?" the fact is i believe you. i know that you did. but did you today? yesterday? will you tomorrow? and overall, the most lingering question is "does he want me to think of him?" do you mind that i'm haunted? do you wish i wouldn't recall you? or are you thinking of me? for now, just remember the way i cut my eyes, the sound of my voice, and most of all my smile.