Eclipse

About this track

We don’t fall apart all at once, it happens in quiet revisions the way we change the ending of a sentence mid thought, the way your eyes stay open a second longer than mine when the room goes dark. I’m always reaching for the edge of things, testing the weight of what could break, while you stand still like you already know how much pressure a moment can take. I move fast when I’m afraid, you slow down when it matters. Somewhere between those instincts we keep finding each other again. You call it balance, I call it friction either way, it holds. We’re an eclipse, not the absence of light, but the way it changes when it’s touched by shadow. I pull, you steady. I burn, you breathe. We don’t disappear we become visible in a different way. We’re an eclipse, two truths crossing paths without asking permission. When you cover me, I finally understand what stays. I speak in unfinished thoughts, in feelings that don’t land clean. You answer with patience, like you’re not afraid of what I mean. You trust the quiet after the argument, I brace for impact long before it comes. You believe silence can be kind, I’ve only known it as a loaded gun. Still, you touch me like you’re not trying to win, and I soften without knowing how. It scares me how easily you reach the parts of me that never learned to calm down. You are the calm I don’t expect, I am the storm you don’t resist. We don’t solve each other we coexist. We’re an eclipse, heat leaning into restraint, movement pressing against stillness. I pull, you steady. You wait, I rush. And somehow the timing forgives us. We’re an eclipse, not meant to last forever, but meant to leave a mark. The kind that changes how you see the sky after it’s gone. I’ve tried to love you in safer ways, smaller words, softer promises. But love with you feels like standing close to something honest and enormous. You let me be inconsistent, let me come undone in pieces. You don’t ask me to choose between my darkness and my sweetness. And I see it how I disrupt your still water, how you ground my excess light. We are not gentle with each other, but we are careful. If I am the question that won’t resolve, be the silence that lets it exist. If you are the pause before surrender, let me be the reason you risk it. We are not made of matching parts. We are made of contrast, of near misses and alignment, of staying when leaving would be easier. We’re an eclipse, not perfection, not peace, but a moment that feels undeniable. You don’t erase me. I don’t consume you. We hold the dark without losing the light. We’re an eclipse, and even when we pass, the world remembers how bright it felt to be this close. We move in cycles, out of sync, out of reach but when we meet, the night makes sense. You are still my sky.

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