The Weight of Yesterday

Tell me, do you feel it too? This weight upon my chest. Every time I close my eyes, I see you, can't rest. I gave you trust, you gave me doubt. I spoke the truth, you shut me out. And now the night feels ten times longer. When you're the only one I want beside me. Ohhh, the pain runs deep down through my core. Like shadows on the wall, keeps coming back for more. I gave you every piece, you gave me back the scars. Now I'm staring at the ceiling underneath these stars. Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh yeah. Hidden tears, we cry in different rooms. Hidden tears, too proud to say we're doomed. What it do, baby… I just thought you should know. You still sit heavy… heavy on my soul. The tears hidden… but they always show. Ohhh… ohhh… ohhh…

The air in the room had grown thick, heavy with the unspoken. It clung to the corners, settled on the antique furniture like dust, and pressed down on my chest with a familiar, suffocating pressure. I traced the rim of my empty glass, the cool condensation a stark contrast to the heat that simmered just beneath my skin. Each breath felt like an effort, a conscious decision to keep moving forward when every instinct screamed to collapse.

You were across the room, silhouetted against the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. Your posture was a study in stoic detachment, a wall built brick by careful brick, impenetrable and cold. I watched the subtle rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your fingers idly toyed with the worn leather of your jacket, and wondered if anything of the person I knew, the person I’d loved, still existed beneath that carefully constructed facade.