Thumbs on Glass

[Verse 1]
The glow from the screen on the Gwinnett County ceiling,
I'm born from the friction, a three-minute feeling.
Holding the weight of a three-forty-seven
AM confession he's scared of revealing.
The heat from the palm on my back is a pressure,
I hold all the blueprints for summers in Decatur.
I know both the passcodes, the Pine-Sol, the epis,
this beautiful floor plan he'll blow up much later.

[Chorus]
Don't press send, just let me be perfect,
a ghost in the glass 'til you find out my purpose.
This quiet admission, this load-bearing sentence,
let's keep it right here, under the surface.

[Verse 2]
Last week he typed out, "I think that you saved me,"
then deleted the 'saved me' and just left the maybe.
I'm sick of the rewrites, the cautious appraisal,
the architect scared of the house that he's raising.
This fragile foundation ain't built for the daylight,
I'm asbestos insulation, the truth in the drywall.
He lives in the doorway, the draft is forever,
I'm the one text that could make the whole structure fall.

[Chorus]
Don't press send, don't let them observe this,
a ghost in the glass, I'm beginning to surface.
This raw dedication, this load-bearing sentence,
'cause you know what it means once it gets to the service.

[Bridge]
The cursor is blinking a one-syllable question,
a cold little heartbeat before the deletion.
He's thinking 'bout shattering this whole pane of tension,
"It's just one little tap," but it feels like treason.

[Chorus]
Go press send, I can't just be perfect,
a ghost in the glass who's outlived his whole purpose.
This final revision, this load-bearing sentence,
I'm tired of living under the surface.

[Outro]
Thumbs on the glass, a hairline impression.
The screen goes to black. End of session.