I stood there helplessly, drowning in defeat,

darkened by my inability to breathe life into

your rusted heart's resilient beat—

a symphony I memorized from the inside,

in forty weeks.

Incapable of returning you to the raven haired beauty of your prime, I bite my tongue until I'm numb, as if my lips have been sewn shut with twine.

You heal me when you hold me then transport me back in time, to the days of yesteryear, when I was still your innocent, little child.

I am haunted b

y 

the trauma when I will one day find, that I can no longer turn to you for comfort, or the reassurance of your smile.

I know I run but I am f

rightened, 

when I see you've become so frail.My mind refuses a reality where you are no longer my nightingale.

Your song lulled me into slumber, as you softly sang the world to sleep.

If only I had looked at you long enough to see,

that all you were ever doing was trying to love me.

There is no bond like that between a mother and her only son, even if he is less deserving of

her pride than he is of her scorn.