I'm listening to the silent groves your favourite song made.

I'm packing up the baggage I carried around for years.

Soon I'll come around, waking from the dreamer's vigil.

Staring at portraits in my wallet, feeling myself falter.


Just for a moment, to let myself feel your voices once more.

Giving in to vices, one more time to feel vulnerable,

I'll keep marching on, because the difference this time?


I'll swear I'll never be there.