Ghost in the Glass

#music #pop #callmusicenglish #happy_songs

Fingertips graze the edge of crystal,
still warm from yesterday’s toast.
This chair holds the shape of your leaving,
though you swore you’d never go.

The clock ticks a hollow rhythm,
the curtains don’t stir with your name.
I pour one more cup for no reason—
just to watch the steam rise and fade.

YOU’RE GONE, BUT THE AIR STILL WHISPERS YOUR TUNE!
Every shadow hums the words we outgrew.
I don’t drink to forget—you’re too deep in the walls,
in the creak of the floor, in the dust on these shelves.

Your coat hangs like a question mark,
caught between seasons and sense.
I fold it each morning at sunrise,
then unfold it by candlelight.

The streetlamp paints stripes on the table,
where your hands used to map out our plans.
Now I trace them in sugar and silence,
with no one to answer my hands.

YOU’RE GONE, BUT THE AIR STILL WHISPERS YOUR TUNE!
Every shadow hums the words we outgrew.
I don’t drink to forget—you’re too deep in the walls,
in the creak of the floor, in the dust on these shelves.

They say time softens the edges...
But yours grow sharper each dawn.
I hear you in static... in footsteps... in rain...

YOU’RE GONE, BUT THE AIR STILL WHISPERS YOUR TUNE!
Every echo wears your old smile like a bruise.
I don’t drink to drown—it’s your ghost in the glass,
in the hush of the hallway, in all I let pass.

One more cup...
for the man who won’t come home...