borrowed sweaters

[Verse 1] Your sweater drapes wrong on my frame— looser, warmer, carrying your day in its seams. You say, “Keep it, I’ve got others,” like that erases the tremor in my hands. Octavia calls something from the hallway, and I answer too quickly, trying to sound normal while your scent pulls me back inside myself. [Pre-Chorus] I rehearse the safer lines, but they never survive your smile. You glance at me like you’re checking weather, and suddenly every joke is a forecast I’m afraid to read aloud. [Chorus] I keep telling myself it’s harmless, but nothing about you feels small. We sketch boundaries in pencil, pretend they won’t smudge. Your laugh rearranges me— a song I pretend not to memorize. I swallow the truth again, hoping it stays quiet this time. [Verse 2] Midnight finds us in the kitchen, bare feet on cold tile, talking around the real things as if circling them makes them disappear. You tilt your head and I pretend I’m only noticing the lighting, not the way your shoulders soften when you’re tired enough to be honest. [Pre-Chorus 2] There’s a silence we keep stepping into— thin as a tripwire, loud as my pulse. I throw out another practiced quip, hoping you don’t hear the confession tucked beneath it. [Chorus] I keep telling myself it’s harmless, but nothing about you feels small. We sketch boundaries in pencil, pretend they won’t smudge. Your laugh rearranges me— a song I pretend not to memorize. I swallow the truth again, hoping it stays quiet this time. [Bridge] I’m the one who’s supposed to stay steady, the one who knows better, the one who doesn’t shake when your hand brushes mine by accident. But the truth hangs between us— a soft, persistent static we both pretend is the fridge humming. [Instrumental Break] [Acoustic guitar: gentle, wavering phrases] [Soft synth pads: warm, expanding] [Final Chorus] I keep telling myself it’s harmless, but the way you say my name argues otherwise. We trace limits we never follow, leave fingerprints on every line. Your laugh keeps turning keys inside me— unlocking things I cannot ask for. So I bite my tongue again, let the truth settle like warm fabric on skin. [Outro] “Just teasing…” I hear myself say— the oldest lie I know. Your sweater hangs off my shoulders, too borrowed, too familiar, and I wear it home like a promise I’ll pretend not to understand. [Acoustic guitar fades out]