Left on Seen

Verse

You always reply when the clock hits three,

like my message’s a chore, not a part of your day.

You say “I was busy,” like that’s enough for me,

but I hear the silence louder than the words you say.

Verse

I don’t send long texts, I just keep it short,

like “I’m okay” will hide the ache in my tone.

You keep me on seen, like my heart’s on hold,

and I’m still waiting for a reason to let go.

Pre-chorus

I don’t say “I’m tired,” I just close my phone,

I don’t say “I’m hurt,” I just laugh it off when I’m alone.

If you ask if I’m fine, I’ll say “yeah, I’m here,”

like being seen is the same as being near.

Chorus

You always leave me on seen,

like my words are a ghost in the screen.

You scroll past the messages, like they’re nothing at all,

but I feel every word when you don’t answer at all.

You always leave me on seen,

like my name’s a note you erase from the page.

You say “I’ll text you later,” but later never comes,

and I’m still in the room where you never really stay.

Verse

You talk for hours to the ones who pick you first,

but my messages sit like a stain on your view.

You send stickers and laughter, send memories to the best,

and my name’s just a name that you never really use.

Pre-chorus

I don’t say “I’m not enough,” I just let the silence grow,

I don’t say “I’m done,” I just let the distance show.

If you check if I’m okay, I’ll say “yeah, I’m fine,”

like “seen” means “I care,” instead of “I left you behind.”

Verse

I don’t say “I’m broken,” I just close my eyes,

I don’t say “I’m empty,” I just let the night go by.

If you looked at my phone, you’d see the empty space,

like the way my heart’s learning to hold onto itself.

Pre-chorus

I don’t talk about how I used to stay,

I just let the room get quieter when I’m away.

You won’t hear the word “leaving,” but you’ll feel it in the air,

like the quiet in my chest is a little less loud.

Chorus

You always leave me on seen,

like my words are a ghost in the screen.

You scroll past the messages, like they’re nothing at all,

but I feel every word when you don’t answer at all.

You always leave me on seen,

like my name’s a note you erase from the page.

You say “I’ll text you later,” but later never comes,

and I’m still in the room where you never really stay.