Doors slide closed, no rush, just rise Soft hum, slow lungs, city outside We been carrying static in the back of the spine Tight jaw, night thoughts, losing track of the time Four walls, long halls, quiet between floors We learned how to lock and double-check doors Now we relearn touch without bracing first Relearn thirst without fearing the worst I see the mothers with the weight in their eyes Holding whole worlds while pretending they're fine I see the children who grew up too fast Little hands gripping the edge of the past Warm bass under the ribcage hum Heartbeat saying, you’re safe, you can come Not to perform, not to defend Just to exist in a room with friends Elevator climbing through doubt and doubt Let the shoulders drop, let the breath roll out No alarms here, no headline sky Just slow lift, slow drift, we rise If you forgot what it felt like to stay Without scanning every doorway Stay now Concrete cold but the candle’s warm Small flame steady in a changing storm We been armored up in invisible gear Holding back tears no one could hear Six feet space turned miles inside Distance taught us how to hide Now the room is close, the room is near Can you feel another heartbeat here? Not on a screen, not through a frame Not filtered light, not curated name Skin near skin, breath near breath Life not arguing with death I know you lost things you can’t explain Time, touch, versions of your own name I know the silence got too loud Crowds felt heavy, or you missed the crowd But look This light is small and real Not viral Not spectacle Just how we feel Soft chords resting in open air Nobody watching, nobody scared Concrete under us, steady and strong We were alone too long Now lean in close, let shoulders meet Let warmth travel through the feet No proving, no defending Just bodies remembering Candlelight on concrete floor You are not surviving anymore You are here You are held And nothing needs to be yelled
