Lyric

Late bus

Fog on the windows

You trace my name

In the quiet glass

Ticket stubs crumpled

In your small fist

You say

“It’s nothing”

I know it won’t last

We were almost something

Almost there

Hands half-open in the August air

Every laugh we left on that cracked red seat

Tastes like sugar on a closing street

I still hear you humming in the engine’s roar

Close enough to reach

Gone before I’m sure

Cold tea

Sweatshirt on your chair

You moved out fast

Left a strand of hair

Soft song

Bleeding from the hall

You said

“I called you”

I never saw the call

We were half a promise

Half a dare

Two unmatched shoes by the bottom stair

Every plan we scribbled on a coffee lid

Faded like the ink on the things we did

I still feel you turning at the bedroom door

Ready to stay

Already wanting more

New bar

Different kind of crowd

I hear your joke

From another mouth

Strange boy

Wearing your old cologne

I raise my glass

Pretend I’m not alone

We were quiet thunder

Soft and rare

Rain that started when I wasn’t prepared

Every word we swallowed in the kitchen light

Lingers like the smoke from a stolen night

I still catch your echo on the hardwood floor

Dancing in the dark

Like we did before

All these versions of us

Stacked like seasons in a box

Photographs in folded jackets

Keys that never found the locks

If I’d stayed

If you’d asked

If we’d spoken

If we’d laughed

Every “maybe” in my chest

Marches past

First snow

Corner grocery sign

You’re by the fruit

With a plastic vine

Your smile

Strangers at your side

You say my name

Like it’s hard to find

We were borrowed daylight

Fading glare

Eyes adjusting as the room went bare

Every almost-kiss on the subway line

Glows behind my ribs when I cross that sign

I still taste your forecast on my trembling tongue

Storm that never broke

Song we never sung