GRAVITATIONAL ABSENCE [Verse 1] Words can only be plucked from the heart, someone pulled all of mine from the dark. Wrote your name on the floor of my core under silence too deep to breathe through. I carry quiet farther than most, past where language loses its shape. Your colored shadow touches my own in a place no screen can translate. Not only thinking of you tonight, whole unknown futures start to bloom. My tears keep watering possible worlds in the gravitational absence of you. [Hook] Gravitational absence of you, free-fall spinning through the room. Shadow lines crossing out of sight, color growing where they combine. So close it doesn’t require skin, just a softened mind letting lifeforce in. Cold world pressing, still something moves— whole gardens wake from a word from you. [Verse 2] Stepping into light, biting my lip, dreaming beneath what daylight permits. My heart burns through the shapes I defend, the private illusions I started living in. Never quite knowing the weight you hold, how it settles across freckled shoulders. Clear frequencies leak through all my noise while your silence arrives more controlled. Beneath that higher-dimensional shine, our wave lines merge, then loosen again. The human in me charges too bright, wanting truth and somewhere safe to rest. [Pre-Hook] My thumb slips— darkness drips over the keypad. Light gets buried beneath the glass, but the love in it doesn’t turn black. [Hook] Gravitational absence of you, free-fall spinning through the room. Shadow lines crossing out of sight, color growing where they combine. So close it doesn’t require skin, just a softened mind letting lifeforce in. Cold world pressing, still something moves— whole gardens wake from a word from you. [Bridge] I keep clearing wave-field hurdles, trying to reach without pulling you near, trying to become a frequency your open heart could safely hear. No need to shrink beneath the feeling, no need to trade your ground for mine. Stand clean inside your own true shape; I’ll recognize the boundary as light. [Final Hook] Gravitational absence of you, even the empty space has weight. Tears fall into unfinished worlds, small green futures pushing through gray. Shadow lines touching mine, then returning whole to either side. So close it doesn’t require skin— just two open hearts with room inside. Little messages flicker and pass, my skipping heart illuminates the glass. Deep in the silence, alive and true, a garden keeps growing— never owning you.
