The Body Knows What the Soul Forgot

[verse 1] My shoulder itched. No wound. No stitch. The mirror blinked. I flinched. I ditched. Touched my teeth — felt something ring. Someone kissed me there, I think. [pre-chorus] I said I’m healed. But salt. Still there. My knees recall that cellar stair. [final chorus: fragmented] The body knows. (But won’t confess.) the body plots. She knows. She knows. A lot. [chorus] (drifting, offbeat) The body knows. (what the soul...) The body shows — (...forgot.) My hips won’t lie. My spine is hot. The body knows — she knows a lot. [verse 2] I called my ribs a birdcage once. He laughed. My thumbs held the punch. My belly hums. Won’t take food. Tuesday’s mine — I just brood. [pre-chorus 2] I say I’m fine, but skin won’t play. I flinch at rain. I twitch your name. [final chorus: fragmented] The body knows. (But won’t confess.) The soul forgot. (Maybe for the best.) [chorus] (slurred, ghosted) The body knows. The soul miswrites. My hands remember past midnights. I dance to breathe. I sway to rot. The body aches for what forgot. [bridge: spoken glitch] My pelvis hosts 13 regrets. My left breast says “not him — forget.” My elbow’s stiff. My breath won’t land. I lost my name inside his hand. [final chorus: fragmented] The body knows. (But won’t confess.) The soul forgot. (Maybe for the best.) I said I’m good. But something knots. I dance, I flinch — the body plots. She knows. She knows. A lot. She knows. She knows. A lot. (The Body Knows What the Soul Forgot)