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Unspoken by Amy Ferguson | Neume
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Unspoken
Amy Ferguson
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Unspoken
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“
”
Sometimes I think you feel it too — the pause, the pull, the slipping through. That moment just before we speak, the quiet wanting, soft and weak. The air between us hums, alive, each glance a spark we don’t revive. I play it calm, but underneath, there’s fire caged between my teeth. I catch your eyes — you look away, as if there’s something you can’t say. But in that second, still, I see the truth you hide looks back at me. Your hand will move, then stop, retreat, as though the thought was too complete. You laugh, you breathe, you tilt your head — the quiet speaks the words unsaid. The space we keep begins to ache, a silence neither one will break. I want to ask, I want to stay, but fear keeps pulling me away. And yet I linger — God, I do, my every thought returns to you. I wonder if your pulse will race, just like mine does when I see your face. When night arrives, I lie awake, rewinding all the moves we make. The brush of shoulders, fleeting glance, the way we hover on the chance. I wonder how your voice would sound if you let every guard come down. Would it be quiet, low, unsure? Would I believe it — would it cure the doubt that lives inside my chest, the ache that won’t let me rest? I tell myself I might be wrong, that I’ve read too deep, held on too long. But then you speak, and something slips — a tremor lives between your lips. And for a moment, time forgets, our reason drowns in its regrets. I see it clear — the wanting’s there, unspoken, breathing in the air. Still, you stay silent — so do I, pretending neither wonders why. But in that stillness, I just know, you feel it too — you let it show. And every time your eyes find mine, that pulse returns, that twisted line. We hover close — too far, too near — and I can’t move. Not until you do. Not until it’s clear. So here we are — the air this thin, your gaze inviting me within. If you should kiss me, I won’t run — I’ll kiss you back. The waiting’s done.
Lyrics
Sometimes I think you feel it too —
the pause, the pull, the slipping through.
That moment just before we speak,
the quiet wanting, soft and weak.
The air between us hums, alive,
each glance a spark we don’t revive.
I play it calm, but underneath,
there’s fire caged between my teeth.
I catch your eyes — you look away,
as if there’s something you can’t say.
But in that second, still, I see
the truth you hide looks back at me.
Your hand will move, then stop, retreat,
as though the thought was too complete.
You laugh, you breathe, you tilt your head —
the quiet speaks the words unsaid.
The space we keep begins to ache,
a silence neither one will break.
I want to ask, I want to stay,
but fear keeps pulling me away.
And yet I linger — God, I do,
my every thought returns to you.
I wonder if your pulse will race,
just like mine does when I see your face.
When night arrives, I lie awake,
rewinding all the moves we make.
The brush of shoulders, fleeting glance,
the way we hover on the chance.
I wonder how your voice would sound
if you let every guard come down.
Would it be quiet, low, unsure?
Would I believe it — would it cure
the doubt that lives inside my chest,
the ache that won’t let me rest?
I tell myself I might be wrong,
that I’ve read too deep, held on too long.
But then you speak, and something slips —
a tremor lives between your lips.
And for a moment, time forgets,
our reason drowns in its regrets.
I see it clear — the wanting’s there,
unspoken, breathing in the air.
Still, you stay silent — so do I,
pretending neither wonders why.
But in that stillness, I just know,
you feel it too — you let it show.
And every time your eyes find mine,
that pulse returns, that twisted line.
We hover close — too far, too near —
and I can’t move.
Not until you do.
Not until it’s clear.
So here we are — the air this thin,
your gaze inviting me within.
If you should kiss me, I won’t run —
I’ll kiss you back.
The waiting’s done.
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