Ghost Edit

[Verse 1]
Your half-drunk Malta on the counter sweats a perfect ring.
Just after one on a Tuesday, and I won't say a thing.
The cold from the linoleum seeps right through my socks.
I unlock my phone, stare at the blinking block.

[Chorus]
This conversation's a ghost edit in the blue light.
My thumb hovers on the letters, tryna get it right.
Backspace, backspace, the whole garden I grew for you.
This conversation's a ghost edit, and it's overdue.

[Verse 2]
Remember braiding your hair on the fire escape floor?
Taught my hands a language they don't speak anymore.
You said, "Ay, you're pulling too tight," what a thing to say.
I'm just watching the new growth get in its own damn way.

[Bridge]
(Sound of a phone notification, then a muffled, distant voice like a played-back voice memo)
"You don't have to prune everything, hermana. Dejame ser. I got this."

[Chorus]
This conversation's a ghost edit in the blue light.
My thumb hovers on the letters, tryna get it right.
Backspace, backspace, the whole garden I grew for you.
This conversation's a ghost edit, and it's overdue.

[Outro]
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