She talks a lot about time now.
About how if she'd met me now, who she is now;
How that'd make all the difference.
How she'd not known how to love yet
Or about patience
Or how sometimes feelings wax and wane
And it doesn't always feel good
Or comfortable to be in love.
She makes me know that I was never the one
That was the problem.
It's untrue, but a good effort.
She goes to sleep sometimes crying about what could've been