Archival Dust

[Verse 1]
The Voodoo Doughnut box from last October
is on top of the fridge, the pink is almost over.
I trace the water ring your glass left on the wood—
a new coastline in this neighborhood.

[Chorus]
Are we just archival dust now?
Little pieces of a past love.
I'm still here, but I don't know how
to hold what we're becoming.

[Verse 2]
You don't burn your toast on purpose anymore.
You don't leave your boots by the front door.
The creosote scent on my old jean jacket's gone,
washed out by the drizzle of a Portland dawn.

[Chorus]
Are we just archival dust now?
Little pieces of a past love.
I'm still here, but I don't know how
to hold what we're becoming.

[Bridge]
Last night you turned over, half-asleep, you said it quiet,
"You feel like a different kind of silence."
A hairline fracture in the geode of us,
Is it a betrayal to just adjust?

[Final Chorus]
(Main Vocal)
Are we just archival dust now?
Little pieces of a past love.
(Countermelody enters, higher, more ethereal)
*(Are we the same? Did we remain?)*
I'm still here, but I don't know how
to hold what we're becoming.
*(A different grain, a different rain...)*

[Outro]
The ship in the bottle's breaking.
Collecting the pieces.