Cinematic Sadness || Heartbreaking Love Songs

Lyrics : Cinematic Sadness

(Verse 1)
The streetlights are humming in a low, hollow B-flat
And I’m leaning my head where your shoulder once sat.
The rain on the windshield is perfectly timed
Like a script that a master of sorrow designed.
The neon is bleeding in puddles of blue
And I’m dressed in the colors of losing you.
I’m waiting for strings to swell up from the ground
To give all this crushing silence a sound.
(Pre-Chorus)
If this were a theater, they’d dim all the house lights
And show a montage of our late-summer nights.
But there’s no slow motion, no soft-focus lens
Just a jagged ending where the breathing begins.
(Chorus)
It’s a cinematic sadness, a wide-angle ache
A beautiful version of a heart as it breaks.
The camera is pulling away from the door
While I’m looking for something to live for once more.
It’s a five-star tragedy, a masterpiece of "gone"
The kind of heartbreak that the critics dwell on.
But I’m not an actor, and this isn't a play
I’m just the one dying as the screen turns to gray.
(Verse 2)
I walk through the park and the leaves start to fall
In a way that feels scripted, too heavy, too tall.
I’m checking the sky for a crane or a light
Something to prove this isn’t just my life tonight.
I’ve memorized lines that I never got to speak
While the salt makes a river down the side of my cheek.
The soundtrack is empty, just the wind in the trees
And the ghost of your "forever" bringing me to my knees.
(Bridge)
There’s no "To Be Continued" across the black sky
No sweeping redemption, no reason why.
Just the smell of the popcorn and the rustle of seats
As everyone leaves while my heart still retreats.
The usher is sweeping the aisles of my soul
Trying to fix what was never quite whole.
(Chorus)
It’s a cinematic sadness, a wide-angle ache
A beautiful version of a heart as it breaks.
The camera is pulling away from the door
While I’m looking for something to live for once more.
It’s a five-star tragedy, a masterpiece of "gone"
The kind of heartbreak that the critics dwell on.
But I’m not an actor, and this isn't a play
I’m just the one dying as the screen turns to gray.
(Outro)
(Slow, rhythmic, like a projector clicking)
Click...
Click...
The film is spinning off the reel.
I’m waiting for the credits to tell me how to feel.
The screen is white.
The house is cold.
And I’m just a story...
That’s already been told.
(Fading)
Cinematic...
So dramatic...
Just static.
Fade to black.

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