Fine Hairline

[Verse 1]
The Hagi ware teapot arrived late August, during the fires.
Your hands were inches apart on my counter, two spent wires.
I felt the grit of the unglazed clay under my thumb,
Cataloging the damage before you went numb.

[Pre-Chorus]
I traced the fracture, a map of the fall.
Brushed the dust from the fissures, so fragile and small.
I told myself that this join would be stronger than all
The silence that grew like a parasitic vine up the wall.
Mixed the lacquer and dust in a pale crepuscular light,
Felt the pull of the glue, holding on through the night.

[Chorus]
And I just fill the fine hairline with gold
A new story the porcelain's too broken to hold
But does it still serve you when the genmaicha's cold?
Does it still hold?

[Verse 2]
Saw you last Tuesday on the Number 4, reading a book.
You got off at Division, you didn't look up, not one look.
I still remember him saying, "It just slipped," when he paid,
And the lie was the one clean edge that you'd made.

[Pre-Chorus]
I traced the fracture, a map of the fall.
Brushed the dust from the fissures, so fragile and small.
I told myself that this join would be stronger than all
The silence that grew like a parasitic vine up the wall.
Mixed the lacquer and dust in a pale crepuscular light,
Felt the pull of the glue, holding on through the night.

[Chorus]
And I just fill the fine hairline with gold
A new story the porcelain's too broken to hold
But does it still serve you when the genmaicha's cold?
Does it still hold?

[Bridge]
I'm just the archivist of the beautiful ache,
Mending the ephemera left in the wake.

[Outro]
The fine hairline...
A fine hairline...