Still Dressed

[Verse 1 | solo female | close-mic chest | speech-sung | sensual low | longing and clear recognition]
[tight stick drums, rimshot and hi-hat, crisp | groove bass locked to kick | no guitar]
A roar. I look up the hill.
His antlers lift above her back, in the grass.
His head at her neck, held still.
She braces, and he holds fast —
I see my own eyes in the hind's, in the glass.
My eyes steal back to the hill.
Phone on the table by the window since last night.
My thumb on its glass, until
it lights up. Not him. Blue-white.
The road below the house. No engine. No light.

[Chorus | female controlled full voice, no belt | strength held back | open vowel on you | two close low harmonies on lines 2 and 5 only, quiet]
[snare in, tight, no crash | groove bass forward, syncopated | muted guitar low colour | piano stabs | no hall]
Send me no more messengers —
they can't tell me what I want; they never do.
Come yourself, not your answers.
Nothing cures it — only you.
Show yourself. If it kills me, let it be you.

[Verse 2 | solo female | still close | sensual | body in the room | recognition on his eyes]
[tight stick drums step up | low tom on the gravel line | groove bass tight to kick | no guitar]
Tyres on gravel. Engine dies.
A helmet catches the porch light through the pane.
The hair on my arms. They rise.
Visor up. His eyes again.
I look down. Step back. He comes in from the rain.
Road and leather in the air.
Helmet down. He steps into the light, still wet.
His arms, and the floor's not there.
Breath on my neck. Stubble. Sweat.
Hands flat on his chest — push, or hold — I forget.

[Chorus | female controlled full voice | same words, more weight, not more volume | two close low harmonies on lines 2 and 5 only, quiet]
[snare steady, tight, no crash | groove bass high | muted guitar low colour | piano stabs]
Send me no more messengers —
they can't tell me what I want; they never do.
Come yourself, not your answers.
Nothing cures it — only you.
Show yourself. If it kills me, let it be you.

[Verse 3 | solo female | closest | lower | sensual and clear | almost spoken | no harmony]
[kick and dry stick hat only, tight | no snare | groove bass in, sparser | nylon guitar colour faint]
Both my arms held, with no weight.
My hip lifts. He presses it down, through the coat.
Too soon. He stops. Makes me wait.
His breath on my arm. I float
ahead of his hands. I turn my head. Kiss his coat.
His mouth, my arm's hollow, my breast.
In my head the shirt's off. His hand, my inner thigh.
Thighs turn out. I arch. Hip pressed.
Rain on the roof. Hours go by.
His whole weight on me, still dressed. My shirt, hitched high.

[Outro | half-spoken solo female | clear | one voice | no melody lift]
[groove thins | kick and bass then out | nylon guitar alone under last two lines]
No one is watching. No one.
Whatever was closing round the house, recedes.
First light, and the rain is done.
Quiet. Nothing left to read.
On the hill, the stag. Alone. Head down. He feeds.

[END]

3500/7500

[Intro | tight stick kit from beat 1, rimshot locked | groove bass riff in, syncopated | low piano stab on the one | no guitar | no vocal | 8 bars] [Verse 1 | solo female | close-mic chest | speech-sung | sensual low | longing and clear recognition] [tight stick drums, rimshot and hi-hat, crisp | groove bass locked to kick | no guitar] A roar. I look up the hill. His antlers lift above her back, in the grass. His head at her neck, held still. She braces, and he holds fast — I see my own eyes in the hind's, in the glass. My eyes steal back to the hill. Phone on the table by the window since last night. My thumb on its glass, until it lights up. Not him. Blue-white. The road below the house. No engine. No light. [Chorus | female controlled full voice, no belt | strength held back | open vowel on you | two close low harmonies on lines 2 and 5 only, quiet] [snare in, tight, no crash | groove bass forward, syncopated | muted guitar low colour | piano stabs | no hall] Send me no more messengers — they can't tell me what I want; they never do. Come yourself, not your answers. Nothing cures it — only you. Show yourself. If it kills me, let it be you. [Verse 2 | solo female | still close | sensual | body in the room | recognition on his eyes] [tight stick drums step up | low tom on the gravel line | groove bass tight to kick | no guitar] Tyres on gravel. Engine dies. A helmet catches the porch light through the pane. The hair on my arms. They rise. Visor up. His eyes again. I look down. Step back. He comes in from the rain. Road and leather in the air. Helmet down. He steps into the light, still wet. His arms, and the floor's not there. Breath on my neck. Stubble. Sweat. Hands flat on his chest — push, or hold — I forget. [Chorus | female controlled full voice | same words, more weight, not more volume | two close low harmonies on lines 2 and 5 only, quiet] [snare steady, tight, no crash | groove bass high | muted guitar low colour | piano stabs] Send me no more messengers — they can't tell me what I want; they never do. Come yourself, not your answers. Nothing cures it — only you. Show yourself. If it kills me, let it be you. [Verse 3 | solo female | closest | lower | sensual and clear | almost spoken | no harmony] [kick and dry stick hat only, tight | no snare | groove bass in, sparser | nylon guitar colour faint] Both my arms held, with no weight. My hip lifts. He presses it down, through the coat. Too soon. He stops. Makes me wait. His breath on my arm. I float ahead of his hands. I turn my head. Kiss his coat. His mouth, my arm's hollow, my breast. In my head the shirt's off. His hand, my inner thigh. Thighs turn out. I arch. Hip pressed. Rain on the roof. Hours go by. His whole weight on me, still dressed. My shirt, hitched high. [Chorus | solo female | near-whisper | recognition and strength | no harmony | last you barely opened] [kick and groove bass as pulse | hi-hat only | no snare | no guitar | no swell] Send me no more messengers — they can't tell me what I want; they never do. Come yourself, not your answers. Nothing cures it — only you. Show yourself. If it kills me, let it be you. [Outro | half-spoken solo female | clear | one voice | no melody lift] [groove thins | kick and bass then out | nylon guitar alone under last two lines] No one is watching. No one. Whatever was closing round the house, recedes. First light, and the rain is done. Quiet. Nothing left to read. On the hill, the stag. Alone. Head down. He feeds. [END]

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