He comes to me in the night,
Sneaks into the covers and pulls me close.
He kisses my neck, whispers my name.
His ghost but a tingle on my spine.
I loved once. It was fire and passion.
Making love and tearing it apart.
Now I listen to love songs on quiet country roads
and I feel him sitting in the passenger seat, loving me.
I feel his smile, miss his lips, his warmth all encompassing.
He is the one and he belongs to another.
So all I have left are whispers of him.
Whispers that lull my empty heart to sleep when the moonlight floods in.