promises to stick around,

i won't ask a single thing,

I'll be there in my guilt,

with the tears that I've built,

i won't bother you then.

i guess where you go,

is not where i'll be,

i'll collect the dead leaves,

where we once were,

so you'll be where i was.

what was I,

but a ditch in the ground,

wanting you to come around,

singing like a drunken clown.

what was I,

but a son that had drowned,

wishing you could keep me grounded.

what was I,

but the star in your eyes,

kept in dark,

while i stared,

as you passed me by.

wasted and welded,

to a well-lit screen,

sitting in a dim-lit room,

recreating my opinions of you.

half-way out an open door,

hanging on a half-lit moon,

hugging a mental fire,

shaking and withdrawn from life.

you appeared as a stranger,

you stayed as a mother,

you left as a stranger.

if i could walk backwards to you,

without falling apart.

if i could feel such a loss,

but remain at the start.

buried beneath a drunken pond,

a mountain full of things i lost,

holding fire for too long.