The scent of our former lover on the t-shirt we refuse to wash. The empty wine bottle that still rolls on the floorboard of our car. The mixtape in the cassette deck that no longer plays. The number stored in our phone that now belongs to a stranger. This is how we lie to ourselves because the truth is too painful, living in the past because the present is less real. Like a time capsule or song on repeat, we seek to preserve a fleeting moment we wish would last forever.
“You Don’t Cross My Mind” is a mantra for hopeless romantics and victims of denial. Those holding on to someone who left years ago, trapped in the hell of wrongly believing they are still dwelling in heaven. A mid-tempo love ballad as beautiful as it is cruel.
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