[Intro | slow dark electric guitar arpeggios, distant cold synth pulse, sparse drums with sticks entering softly] The screen lights up without a sound — only your name comes in quiet now. [Verse 1 | intimate male baritone, close-miked, dark electric guitar, faint digital shimmer far back] Your name again, lit and soundless, then the messages start to stack — somebody's hurt you again tonight, and somehow it wears my name. My hand already knows the answer, but a voice in me chants: wait — never answer right away, answer another day. [Chorus 1 | gentle lift, fuller electric guitar, soft low harmonies, steady drums with sticks, restrained] The pictures only show a corner of the beauty that we had, the posts are only shadows of the thing we could have been — power couple in silhouette, good vibes only, sky is the limit. I scroll through it all, and I don't understand: why did you tighten your grip on what was resting in your hands? [Verse 2 | stripped back to guitar and bass, intimate vocal, cold synth pulse distant] My finger scrolls the calendar, finds our anniversary — "repeats every year" — and taps: delete all future occurrences. Now it's a day like any day. No mark on it. I pass your birthday on the way down — my thumb decides before I do. Delete. Another unmarked day. Then I press sync, and every screen I own forgets you at once. [Chorus 2 | gentle lift, fuller electric guitar, soft low harmonies, weight in the delivery] The pictures only show a corner of the beauty that we had, the posts are only shadows of the thing we could have been — power couple in silhouette, good vibes only, sky is the limit. I scroll through it all, and I don't understand: why did you tighten your grip on what was resting in your hands? [Verse 3 | dry drums with sticks forward, dark guitar, vocal close and steady] I type a friend's name in the search and land in a group you built around us. My thumb learns fast now: leave group. Leave group. I star the old thread with my kids — that one stays. Then the gallery: a wall of tagged years — holidays, birthdays, Valentine's — remove tag, delete. Then my camera roll, you as I saw you, gone one by one. I leave two. And one on the profile. [Bridge | warmer guitar tone, drums soften, vocal tender and open, synth shimmer fading] We were easy once. Your hand in my back pocket on a street in June, you laughed so hard at nothing, strangers turned around — and I remember thinking: nothing gets to touch this. We built it fast, we built it bright. I still can't find the day it turned. [Chorus 3 | full arrangement, aching restraint, low harmonies, slowing slightly at the end] The pictures only showed a corner of the beauty that we had, the posts were only shadows of the thing we could have been — power couple in silhouette, good vibes only, sky is the limit. I close my eyes, and I still don't understand: what more did you need than everything? It was already yours. [Outro | electric guitar and bass and voice only, no synth, no shimmer, still and quiet, space between lines] The phone lies face-down on the table. Nothing comes in. It's quiet now. Nothing left to answer, nothing left to delete. I stay in my chair. I lift my eyes to the window — the light is just the light. [End]
