Melancholy Moments

(Verse 1)

Soft rain on the window, a theatre of glass

I count the quiet seconds that used to pass

Between your leaving footsteps and the echo of the door

Coffee gone cold on the kitchen floor

(Pre-Chorus)

I keep the light on for the shape of you

Trace the old playlist, play it through

(Chorus)

These are the melancholy moments that come like weather

Fold me in their grey, then leave me tethered

To the small, honest ache that remembers how we were

Whispering the lost lines of a love I still rehearse

(Verse 2)

A postcard with a corner torn, your scrawl in blue

A photograph that leans against the truth

I fold and unfold every could-have-been and why

Learn the grammar of goodbye

(Pre-Chorus)

The clock forgets to race, it learns to wait

I talk to empty rooms like they might answer back

(Chorus)

These are the melancholy moments that come like weather

Breathe on my skin, then vanish like a letter

Leaving fingerprints of light on the windowpane of me

Mapping where you left and where I couldn’t be

(Instrumental Break

(Instrumental: piano motif carries melody; strings enter on second phrase; brief guitar arpeggio answers))

(Bridge)

I build small altars out of little things you left behind

A ticket stub, a dried-out pen, a verse misaligned

I vow to set them free but keep one for the ache

So memory won’t learn to break

(Quiet Chorus)

These melancholy moments, soft as winter feathers

Hold me close, then scatter in my weather

I sing the hush between the beats, the hush you made a home

In every sigh that’s come and gone

(Final Chorus Big)

These are the melancholy moments that teach me how to stay

Rewrite the map of hollow rooms into a way

To keep the door ajar for sunlight, not for sorrow’s claim

Learning to love the echo, learning to say your name

(Outro)

Soft rain on the window, the theatre of glass

I fold the quiet seconds and let them pass