[Intro, a soft uncertain hush, held breath before the first word] the table went quiet in a way it doesn't usually go [Verse 1, close and careful, the voice picking each word like a stone to step on] it was such a small thing barely a sentence, barely a look but it sat between us taking up more room than it should I keep replaying it turning it over for a shape that makes sense wondering if I said too much or not enough of the right thing [Verse 2, the same care, a little more tired] I wanted to fix it today tie it off neat before the night was through but some things don't close the way a door does so I let the dishes dry and I let the silence sit not because I stopped caring but because I ran out of the right words [Bridge, something eases, the tension loosening without a clear reason] and somewhere between one day and the next without my noticing exactly when the sharp edge of it wore soft the way water finds its way around a stone nobody apologized in so many words we just started talking about small things again and the small things were enough [Chorus, warm and settled, the realization arriving gently] so I stop trying to hurry it I let the time do what it does it was never mine to force only mine to wait through, softly [Outro, gentle resolution, full stop ending] the table is loud again in the ordinary way and whatever that was has quietly let go of us too
