I Only Hold Their Weather

Sometimes I slip into a mode where I’m less inside the moment and more watching it. I detach without meaning to—quietly—and suddenly every small detail becomes huge: dust in the light, the way people pause before they speak, the shape of silence after a laugh. In that state I don’t judge, I just collect patterns, and my mind starts weaving little stories around them. It can feel like I dissolve into the space itself—like the room becomes the narrator and I’m only listening. This song is written from that place: a room holding what people bring in, what they leave behind, and the weather they carry through it.

Lyrics

I Only Hold Their Weather

[Verse 1]
Dust on the window
Shadows that lengthen
Then leave
Coats on the chair back
Names that I never receive
Laughter like warm wind
Footsteps that circle and fade
Coffee rings staining
Maps of the choices they’ve made

[Pre-Chorus]
I don’t keep score
I don’t keep time
I only keep
What they forget behind

[Chorus]
I watch them change their faces
Trade their stories in the air
Set down burdens
On the armrest of a chair
They come apart
They come together
Like pages in a book they never read twice
I only hold their weather
All their summers
All their ice

[Verse 2]
Arguments hanging
Thin as a coat on one nail
Silence that thickens
Soft as an unopened mail
Eyes on the ceiling
Searching for something unnamed
Hands on the plaster
Touching a past they won’t claim

[Pre-Chorus]
I don’t take sides
I don’t take vows
I only take
The echo that this moment allows

[Chorus]
I watch them change their voices
Shape their futures in a word
Break in whispers
That they hope are never heard
They fall apart
They fall together
Like patterns in a rug of borrowed time
I only hold their weather
All their thunder
All their shine