(Verse 1)
There’s a photo on my dash with your laugh in every corner,
Thumbprints ring the edges like small moons I couldn’t order.
The porch light stays on at midnight where we used to practice names,
Your jacket’s folded on the seat — it still smells like early June and rain.
(Pre-Chorus)
I kept your quiet like a hymn, mistook the room for home,
Counting small, forgiving things until my patience turned to stone.
(Chorus)
I held on too long — kept the porch light lit for you,
Like a lighthouse for a ship that never learned our truth.
I held on too long — and kept your photograph pressed cold,
Singing to an empty dashboard while your name fell out of hold.
(Verse 2)
There’s a rusted ring in the glovebox from a promise left to sleep,
A cigarette-burned lighter, a receipt for a place you never keep.
Dust settles on my porch like a kind of patient snow,
I trace the edge of evening where your footsteps used to go.
(Pre-Chorus)
I learned to trade the small things for a reason I’d believed,
But wanting isn’t keeping, and faith won’t take the leave.
(Chorus)
I held on too long — kept the porch light lit for you,
Like a lamp that casts your shadow when you’re already through.
I held on too long — turned your laugh into a song,
That I sang in the passenger seat while you were gone so long.
(Bridge)
I found your name on a mailbox in a town I don’t belong,
The glovebox opened slow and the ring felt heavier than the wrong.
That one small thing — metal chilled with dust and time —
Was the knock that showed me I’d been waiting on a line.
(Chorus — full)
I held on too long — kept the porch light lit for you,
Like a beacon for a stranger who forgot the view.
I held on too long — and love became a song,
That I crooned to cracked vinyl while the road said you were gone.
(Outro)
There’s dawn across the highway and the radio hums low,
I’ll fold the photo softer now and learn the way to go.
Not with a blaze, but steady steps, leaving light where it belongs —
I held on too long; I’m learning how to stop holding on.
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(Alternate Chorus Option A)
I held on too long — your sweater on the seat still keeps,
The scent of summer in the cloth, the echo of their sleeps.
I held on too long — the porch light watched me wait,
For a silhouette that never turned back through that gate.
(Alternate Chorus Option B)
I held on too long — kept the radio tuned to you,
Spun your song until the needle wore a hollow through.
I held on too long — and every small thing proved,
That love left in slow motion is a slow and lonely truth.
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(2-line sample revision of Verse 1 if you confirm the exact image details)
Thumbprints map the polaroid caught on my dash, your smile edged in grain,
Porch light hangs like an unanswered note where we spoke each other’s names.
