(Verse 1)
Under the streetlamp where the rain learns your shoes,
I stand with a paper cup — the lipstick crescent you refuse.
You toss the lid like a secret, watch it spin into the gutter,
I count the way your coat folds, the echo of your mutter.
There’s a scar behind my smile I hide with sugar and a sigh,
I fold each small detail into the pockets of my night.
(Pre-Chorus 1)
You never glance left, never catch the way I breathe;
I trace your silhouette on subway glass, memorize the seam.
My hands keep maps of gestures only midnight knows,
I hold my breath when your shadow crosses and it grows.
(Chorus 1)
You walk past like I'm air — I memorize your shape,
I press the outline to my chest, count the beats it takes.
Under that copper lamp I whisper all your lines,
I learn your laugh, your coffee order, keep you in my mind.
(Verse 2)
Your jacket on the bench drifts like a promise made in wool,
I fold the sleeve around my fingers, warm it until I’m full.
I keep the receipt you dropped — three dollars, black, no cream,
A breadcrumb proof you passed this way and never saw my dream.
Your laugh is a cassette in the pocket of my coat;
I rewind it on the nights I forget how to be afloat.
(Pre-Chorus 2)
I follow patterns in your footsteps, match the tempo of your pace,
Press my palm against the window where your coffee fogs the place.
The city hums a chorus and I hum along too close,
Compulsion swells like winter—more than longing, less than hope.
(Chorus 2)
You walk past like I'm air — I memorize your shape,
Now I map the lines between your words, where secrets scrape.
I leave a folded note beneath the bench where you sit down,
A small admission folded twice, then I watch you walk out of town.
(Bridge)
Tonight I breathe and almost say your name; my tongue betrays its plan,
I fold the paper tighter, tuck it in the seam of an old scarf's tan.
For one thin second I consider stepping into your light,
But I see you laugh with someone else and the world unravels — tight.
I realize obsession is a mirror where I lose my face,
So I burn the edges of my promises and watch them leave no trace.
(Chorus 3 — Final)
You walk past like I'm air — I memorize your shape,
I turned your shadow into a shrine and kept the candles safe.
Now the flame eats what I named after you and I can't escape,
I will memorize your shape until I forget my own name.
(Outro)
Under the same streetlamp I fold the night around my bones,
I leave the note unread and walk home through alleys made of stones.
You are the pattern I repeat until my edges fray;
I am the quiet that follows you — the girl you never see today.
