You say you're heading out,
But you stay a little more.
You look toward the hallway,
But you don’t reach the door.
You claim you made your mind,
But your breath is holding tight.
You turn your face away,
But you don’t leave my sight.
Almost staying—
You hover in the space between.
Almost staying—
Where nothing’s lost and nothing’s clean.
You say you need the distance,
But you don’t take the final step.
You almost leave me,
But you almost stay instead.
You say you’re letting go,
But your voice is soft and slow.
You say you want the quiet,
But you ask me where I’ll go.
You press your hands together,
Like you’re scared of what you choose.
You speak of moving forward,
But you circle like you’ll lose.
Almost staying—
You hover in the space between.
Almost staying—
Where nothing’s lost and nothing’s clean.
You say you need the distance,
But you don’t take the final step.
You almost leave me,
But you almost stay instead.
Maybe we are living
In the part that never shifts.
Where leaving feels too heavy,
And staying never fits.
Almost staying—
You turn away but linger still.
Almost staying—
Like you’re waiting for my will.
You try to say goodbye,
But the moment never ends.
You almost walk away,
But you almost stay again.
