Wondering

A little twinge, a little shock, a little whisper at the bottom of your memory. A sudden wind, a gentle knock, and then a rustle in the leaves. You hold your breath, you check the lock. You reassure yourself there's nothing at the window. But you're wondering. You're wondering. You're wondering what that was. Nothing's gonna happen. Nothing's gonna happen. You turn a key, you flip a switch. You settle back into the blissful unfamiliar. You close you're eyes, but there's an itch. A little hurt your heart retrieves. But you ignore the tiny twitch. Pretend the feeling will be gone before morning. But you're wondering. You're wondering. You're wondering where you are. Nothing's gonna happen. Nothing's gonna happen. But wouldn't it be fine to share the weather in her eyes, her hair. Her footsteps as she climbs the stair. The shadow in her light. But everything you know is true, and everything you want to do, and everything that makes you you, collides against the night. And nothing's black and white. But you're wondering. You're wondering. You're wondering what's to do. You're wondering. You're wondering. You're wondering if it's true. Nothing's gonna happen. Nothing has to happen.