I want to know who you were that night.
You were not the man that I learned to love so easily.
Or the friend that I helped out of the dark.
You were not the smile that was so contagious.
Or the dreamer that only feared reality.

Who were you that night.
You were not the boy with endless stories to tell.
Or the person who stands up for himself.
You were not the listening ear and shoulder to lean on.
Or the man that taught me how to love myself again.

That night, you became a different person.
A lost soul, breaking down again.
You were unraveling, and you forgot me.
All that you taught me, you simply gave up.
So many words uttered, like shards of glass to my heart.

What did we become that night.