(Verse 1)
I walk the avenue where we learned to laugh,
Your laugh still hides between the streetlamps' glass.
A chipped coffee mug with lipstick at the rim,
Our vinyl stuck on side two, the needle on a hymn.
The midnight bus remembers how you said my name,
Ticket stub in my pocket, a map with no more lanes.
(Pre-Chorus 1)
How did bright become a grayscale frame?
We traded summer for the chill of blame.
I keep replaying all the small refrains,
Trying to find the road that leads me home again.
(Chorus 1)
Seconds crack across my hands,
Your voice like rain on the windowpanes.
I reach into the dark for what I planned,
Only to find the echo of your name.
Our photos folded at the corners now,
I trace the edges, but they won’t show how
We let the light go out so slow.
(Verse 2)
Every joke we told is living in the hall,
A shadow on the radiator, a sweater on the wall.
You left with my winter coat — I still keep the collar folded,
It smells like subway mornings and promises you never told me.
Your keys, a half-drunk tea, the scarf you hated on warm days,
Small monuments to the distance that won't fade away.
(Pre-Chorus 2)
We didn't notice the seams come loose,
I learned the language of your silent truce.
Now I'm unpacking all the little proofs,
Finding what belonged to us and what belonged to truth.
(Chorus 2 — Variation)
Seconds crack across my hands,
Our map of nights now spilling into sand.
I used to reach — now I understand,
Some lights don't come back when you demand.
Your laugh is lodged between the streetlamps' glow,
But I won't keep chasing ghosts I know,
I'll let some of these pieces go.
(Bridge)
You left with my winter coat — I still keep the collar folded,
On rainy nights I breathe into it and pretend I'm folded close to you.
I found your handwriting on a receipt from June,
A joke about the ocean; we never learned to swim.
So I turn the collar inside out, stitch a seam I can afford,
A quiet act of salvage: making shelter from a word.
(Chorus 3 — Resolution)
Seconds crack across my hands,
I gather up the silver, gather up the glass.
I put the coat into a drawer, button it with both my plans,
Feel the weight of winter lessen as I pass.
Your laugh will live between the streetlamps' hum,
But I'll learn to hum a different tune when morning comes,
And build a softer map beneath a new sun.
(Outro)
The avenue keeps breathing, lights blink once and go,
I fold the collar one last time and let the old winds blow.
Not every broken thing needs fixing by my hands —
Somewhere past the storm, I'll teach my heart to stand.
