A Hesitation Bloom

[Verse 1]
(Spoken)
I'm the space you make when the Luzianne tea is done steeping.
I'm the three seconds after the screen door sighs shut on a Tuesday.
I live in the loam of your throat, right before a word tries to grow.
You almost told her then, didn't you? By the wilting basil on the sill.
I held that for you. Kept it safe.

[Chorus]
(Sung)
And oh, the weight of a good thing unsaid
Is a seed in the palm, a prayer in the head.
A deep-rooted truth, in this good soil instead.
Oh, the sweet, heavy weight of a good thing unsaid.

[Verse 2]
(Spoken)
I remember the sound of the ice in her glass that night in July.
The sweat on the bottle of Prestige you brought back from the trip.
She said, "Your hands look like your father's now," and traced the line on your wrist.
You filled me up then, I got so full I almost broke.
A silence so loud, it was a kind of hope.

[Chorus]
(Sung)
And oh, the weight of a good thing unsaid
Is a seed in the palm, a prayer in the head.
A deep-rooted truth, in this good soil instead.
Oh, the sweet, heavy weight of a good thing unsaid.

[Bridge]
(Sung)
Some things don't need the sun.
They just need the knowing they've begun.

[Outro]
(Spoken)
I'm still here. In the hum of the fridge.
In the shape of your breath on the cold window ledge.