Time stands still in certain places, where
The remnants of old glory days
Settle in and make it feel as if the world
Is moving forward,
But you, caught here by memory or by love,
Go nowhere at all.

You think,
This is this the place that turned you into what you are,
Wanted,
By so many people that over the years,
The faces have blurred,
And you, for all you want to understand,

Can only hope to keep yourself afloat,
Your head above
The water that only seems to rise with every choice you make.
There have been a lot of those,
But certainly no question of dedication,
Or of loyalty,

Whatever it means, to you,
To those who
Have it in their hands to send you on your way,
Or keep you here.
They say, the decision is yours, but
It does nothing to lessen the burden

Of making up your mind; of taking that first step
In a new direction.
Time stands still in certain places,
Much like this one, where
You think of days gone by and know
Those days will not return,

And you are not as young as you once were.

maybe you have always known it,
that to come here meant to stay,
for as long as it took to realize that perhaps,
you are not as young as you think you are,
not anymore; that
one day the skies will meet the horizon

and you will watch and know,
you've done all you came here for,
breathed life into something left by the wayside,
forgotten. but no.
they will not forget;
you will not let them.

you want to ask,
what happens, when it fades?
when a smile leaves someone's eyes, and
you know why because
it's left yours, too? what can you say when,
lost as you are,
you're no longer sure that
anyone is listening?

It used to be that you could fill a room just by
    Being there;
    That whatever was on your mind came
    Flying out, as if
    There wasn't enough room inside your head
    For it to stay.

    There is a difference between being untouchable
    And unbreakable.
    It is a startling thing, when it hits that you are neither,
    But that someone wished for you to be at least the one.
   

I could write a hundred thousand words,
    And it still wouldn't be enough to tell what little I know.
    I could say in any language what it feels like when
    Your heart drops to the soles of your feet,
    Then rises to your throat; how hard it is to hold back tears,
    To even entertain such thoughts as the ones that cross your mind,
    When you realize things don't always turn out the way you want them.
    How easy it is to lose your faith
    In the wake of your heart breaking.

    The first time I watched you walk away from me,
    You kept your head up, like it was an impossible thing to
    Stare at the ground, acknowledge defeat.
    I couldn't admit that I admired it,
    But I wanted to.