Urushi Trace

[Verse 1]
Julian, your collarbone still holds that Dauphine Street line,
A hairline fracture from a misjudged Mardi Gras sign.
The raised, silver grain beneath my thumb feels like a braille I know,
A seam that proves you didn't let the city let you go.

[Chorus]
This urushi trace is a map I'm reading,
My little blueprint for some light-hearted treason.
Forget the harbor drafts, the cantilever stress,
Tonight, the only plan is my "yes."

[Verse 2]
The kitchen smells like chicory and your sketchbook's leaden dust,
You draft the hulls that laugh at squalls and salt-air rust.
My mother mends the world with lacquer, thread, and gold,
You wear the finest piece of joinery I'll ever hold.

[Bridge]
(Music thins out, group vocal hums underneath)
You said, "It's nothing, just a clumsy mistake."
But what a lovely fault line for a body to make.

[Outro]
(Music dissolves to near silence)
Just follow my lead.
Come on, follow my lead.