[Chorus] It tastes like almost. It feels like mine. It leaves before the morning line. You go back to what you keep. I keep the dark. You keep the sleep. No promises. No daylight proof. Just sugar on a borrowed truth. [Verse 1] You check the time before you kiss me. Phone face down. Lights off quickly. I don’t ask where mornings go. I only stay until you know. Your jacket hangs too neat to be mine. You never leave a single sign. [Pre-Chorus] There’s a place you always leave for. I don’t follow to that door. Don’t say “later” like it’s free. We both know what after three means. [Chorus] It tastes like almost. It feels like mine. It leaves before the morning line. Call it comfort. Call it need. Call it something we don’t speak. You go back to what you keep. I keep the dark. You keep the sleep. [Verse 2] Your ring leaves a silver crescent in the sheets when you get restless. I trace it like it’s not a mark. Like it’s not someone else’s dark. You silence names before they land. I understand. I understand. [Bridge] Let it buzz. Let it sting. Broken wings still do their thing. I’m not blind. I’m not fooled. I chose this half-lit room. If I’m the space between your days — I’ll stay. [Final Chorus] It tastes like almost. It feels like sin. It never asks where I begin. You leave before the sky turns blue. It always ends with almost you. No future tense. No morning claim. Just sugar, rust, and no last name.
