There’s a burn inside my chest, like erasing you will help me rest. Swipe your ghost, avoid the street, pretend we never used to breathe. You forgot the way I felt— I still feel you underneath. Every hand since yours is proof that no one loves the way you bruise. I’ve been spinning in my words, sounding fine, but that’s rehearsed. Tried to fit where I don’t blend, in a world that filters pain and pretends. Breath is thick, rage runs clean, I write like it’s morphine. If this ain’t healing, it’s the scream I whisper just to stay unseen. I don’t say your name Not 'cause it’s gone. But if I speak it now, I’ll break what's holding on. Don’t come around, I left that zone. All that’s left is skin and bone. Dance with lies, wear your crown— But don’t act like you ever held me down. Your memory kicks like midnight gin, sweet and sharp beneath the skin. I wrote you out with every verse, but ink don’t kill what’s getting worse. I ache, I rage, I don’t pretend, but I don’t want you back again. This isn’t healing—this is war, and I ain’t singing love no more. I don’t say your name— Not 'cause it’s gone. But if I speak it now, I’ll break what's holding on. Don’t come around, I left that zone. All that’s left is skin and bone. Dance with lies, wear your crown— But don’t act like you ever held me down. You called it love. I called it real. You gave me masks, I gave you feel. You’re not a ghost. You’re just the flame I sing to burn, so I stay sane.
