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It’s late The band is tired The room is a slow river
You find me at the bar where the light refuses to stay
We trade small lies like currency —the kind that buys two more songs
My heel taps a memory in three slow beats
Someone asks for a request;I hand them my silence instead
A waltz in the key of almost
There was a time I believed music could mend a hallway of rooms
Tonight the notes gather at the corners and whisper about leaving
You laugh like it’s a signal;I hold my cup like it’s a map
A saxophone slides between us —soft and invasive
One last turn one small orbit;the room narrows to us
We move like we know each other and don’t mean it
Hands find shoulders Shoulders find the truth
We step and the floor remembers every promise we didn’t keep
Two minutes
Three steps
A whole life in the space between your chest and mine
I used to think endings were loud —fireworks curtains names
Now they come like taxi lights and the slow unbuttoning of a coat
You say something kind;it does not change the weather
The band plays like it’s covering us with a blanket
Turn me toward whatever is left of the night
Teach me how to leave without taking the light
We glide —polite rehearsed —and for a second we are new
Then the tempo drops;something honest slips out of time
Stay a little
I don’t know how to stay for someone who prefers the dark
The bell rings soft;the bottles say goodbye
We finish the song with our hands still meeting at the small of the back
No shouting No rush Just a last breath like a key turned in an old lock
And when the lights fold up the world we fold into separate pockets of silence
Last call Last waltz We leave with our pockets full of midnight
