Keep the Room Around Me

[Verse 1]
I keep a little floor plan folded in my coat,
add rooms in pencil while you’re setting out the plates.
The kitchen drawer sticks; you kick it with your heel,
then save me the crisp corner of the lasagna.
I love this house. I know which stair complains.
Still, I price a train ticket just to feel its name.

[Pre-Chorus]
A pastry at the counter, warm custard on my thumb;
new shoes, a stranger’s grin—each says, “You could become…”
I come home lighter, briefly. Then the receipt
lies face-up by your keys, a tiny witness with teeth.

[Chorus]
I want to leave the room and keep the room around me;
want the door, your hand, the laugh I know by heart—
(no, not that rhyme) the laugh you make when the kettle spits.
I’m grateful, I’m bored, I’m yours, I’m not done wondering.
If I step out, I miss you. If I stay, I miss a life
that never learned my name. Both can be true tonight.

[Verse 2]
I buy a ticket, cancel it, keep the little map.
I flirt like I’m borrowing a coat I’ll bring right back.
The thrill is sweet; so is your sleepy shoulder.
I’m generous with oranges, stingy with the future.

[Bridge]
Maybe the extra room is only where I store
all the selves I didn’t meet, still knocking politely.
I hear you laugh downstairs. I don’t go. I do.

[Chorus]
I want to leave the room and keep the room around me;
want the door, your hand, the laugh you make at the kettle.
I’m grateful, I’m bored, I’m yours, I’m not done wondering.
If I step out, I miss you. If I stay, I miss a life
that never learned my name. I fold the map. Not neatly.