You say you’re walking out,
But you pause before the door.
You claim you’ve made your choice,
But you’re unsure like before.
You try to hold your breath,
Like you’re scared of what you feel.
You say you’re moving on now,
But your steps don’t make it real.
Not enough to leave—
You don’t stay, but you don’t go.
Not enough to leave—
You break away, but not below.
You try to disappear,
But you stop before you choose.
You want to let me go,
But not enough to leave the truth.
You say you want the quiet,
But you check if I’m still near.
You say the past is over,
But it trembles when you steer.
You tell me you’re decided,
But your voice gives you away.
You’re halfway out the moment,
But you return the same day.
Not enough to leave—
You don’t stay, but you don’t go.
Not enough to leave—
You break away, but not below.
You try to disappear,
But you stop before you choose.
You want to let me go,
But not enough to leave the truth.
Maybe this is how you live—
Always caught in two.
Part of you is walking out,
But the rest stays pulling through.
Not enough to leave—
Even when you turn aside.
Not enough to leave—
When you hold what’s left inside.
You step away,
But never far enough to lose.
You want to say goodbye,
But not enough to follow through.
