We were young, and the skies were grey

(Or were they always waiting to fall?)

Walking fields that knew our names

(Names borrowed, never truly ours)

Paper hearts in a world of clay

(Meant to crumble, meant to fray)

Built to break, but we stayed the same

(What choice did we have but to stay?)

Art on the walls, secrets in thread

(Hopes pinned like butterflies, already dead)

Told to be proud of the lives we'd be led

(But never told what pride would cost)

The truth was stitched into every page

(And none of us dared to read it aloud)

Of stories they told to keep us in place

(A kindness masked as fate)

So don’t let go, don’t drift away

(Though we were made to drift apart)

Hold me close through the fear and the rain

(This warmth is borrowed, fading fast)

I’ll carry your soul in every song I know

(Songs no one will remember)

Even when we have to let go

(Especially then.)

We watched the tide pull Tommy down

(Quiet hands, louder than screams)

While silence screamed in your softest frown

(And you knew it was always too late)

I traced my past through your trembling hands

(Looking for time that never was)

Knowing none of this went as we planned

(There never was a plan—only permission)

We were lovers inside a fading dream

(A dream dreamt by someone else)

Where nothing is ever what it seems

(Except the end)

And I kept on hoping love would delay

(But love isn’t armor—just lace)

The dawn that would steal you away

(Steal, not take—there is a difference)

So don’t let go, don’t drift away

(But if you must—drift softly)

Hold me close through the fear and the rain

(We are weathered, we are worn)

I’ll carry your soul in every song I know

(And still lose you in each one)

Even when we have to let go

(Especially then.)

They said we weren’t made to last

(But we lasted long enough to grieve)

Still, we held the moments like stained glass

(Cracked, but holy)

Each shard a memory I still feel

(Still bleed)

A life unlived, but achingly real

(And who says it wasn’t real?)

And if there’s a world where we’re truly free

(If freedom means remembering)

I’ll find you there—will you wait for me?

(Or will I find only the wind?)

Till then I’ll walk where the cold winds blow

(Among the ghosts we became)

Whispering, “Never let me go”

(But always knowing—one of us must.)