Fingertip Spark

A song for two in the morning, stopped in front of the one message you cannot send. Someone who only ever outran her doubts does not run tonight. She stops at the width of a fingertip. You rewrite the text again and again and come back to the first line you wrote. After you press send there is only the time you cannot fill, waiting for a reply. This is the sound of choosing to wait instead of outrunning it.