PAINTED IN SMOKE

[Verse 1] It’s a whisper dressed in armor A wildfire in disguise It hides the truth in velvet While it’s staring through her eyes I speak in stars and shadows She laughs, but doesn’t see That every line I scribble down Is her, and always will be [Chorus] It’s painted in smoke, carved out of rain Wrapped in riddles so she won’t guess my name It’s not the kiss—it’s the silence I keep The hope in my heart I bury too deep It’s not the thing—it’s the echo it leaves And now I just haunt the words I don’t speak [Verse 2] She quotes my lines at parties Says, “He writes like no one can” But I’m the fool behind the curtain Just a metaphor of a man I called her “light on water” She called it “pretty prose” But I was begging her to notice In the only way I know [Chorus] It’s painted in smoke, carved out of rain Dancing on wires between pleasure and pain It’s not the kiss—it’s the tremble before The truth that I never walked through her door It’s not the thing—it’s the ache underneath It’s loving in silence, and drowning in speech [Bridge] I wrote her a love song, disguised as a poem And watched her fall for the words… Not the one who wrote them I stayed the metaphor, too scared to confess Now she’s gone—and I’m left with the rest [Final Chorus] Still painted in smoke, carved out of rain A ghost in the margins, alone with the shame It’s not the kiss—it’s the life I let go For fear she might laugh or worse—say no It’s not the thing—it’s the chance that I missed And every sweet line… is a lie with a twist [Outro – whispered, almost spoken word] So I write in riddles, I rhyme and pretend But the ink always knows where the silence begins