I’ve made a mountain out of a molehill.
You were never more than a pleasant, undulating view.
Less misadventure, more sunny day out;
Why can’t I navigate to knowing that to be true?
When you make a mountain out of a molehill,
You see unscalable rock faces instead of single grass blades.
You tell yourself, one step away is all it will take,
And yet they’re the backdrop shadowing over all of your days.
We were no mountain made out of a molehill.
I am no treasured pebble, more accidental find.
When you skim me across the mirkiest of puddles,
I know. You were always going to leave me behind.