The Hammer

[INTRO – intimate] The house didn’t break all at once… it broke in silence. [VERSE 1] The hospital hallway talked to me— glass light, a voice with no sun. And one small question, almost casual, split my wound wide open, undone: “So… what are you… to him?” and my words froze in my throat. ’Cause when kisses go missing at home, sometimes they land… where they shouldn’t go. [PRE-CHORUS] I don’t excuse the betrayal, no— but I learned to look behind the mask: sometimes fear puts on makeup… and you don’t see it till the last. [CHORUS] I won’t hand you the hammer, love, I won’t hold up what takes two. Without two hands there’s no mending, just “I’m sorry” with nothing to do. If you come back, come back facing me— with actions and a voice that’s true… and if you don’t, let it hurt with dignity, but not at the cost of me breaking too. [VERSE 2] And now I’ll say my part—no theatre: I chased you out of ambition, ambition to run from a home that never felt like it had a heart in it. You could’ve been you or anyone— you were you ’cause you asked me first, and I fell in love with the exit, you fell in love with the words “I’m yours.” I carried sorrow I never named, and that sorrow cooled the room. I ran from intimacy with you, and I loved you out of duty… like a rule. I know the spark wasn’t living— and that emptiness wore my name too, love. [BRIDGE – more human, more clear] And yours… wasn’t “coldness,” no— it was a kid learning how to survive: ’cause the one who should’ve held you taught you to shut down inside. A violent father, drowning in drink, storms where tenderness should’ve been; instead of hugs, punishment— instead of kisses, everything. So you learned to swallow language, to numb yourself, to never need… and sometimes the bar was the only place your lungs could breathe. It doesn’t justify you chasing that spark on someone else’s skin… but I see why you never learned how to stay… and grow within. [FINAL CHORUS – orchestral, firm] I won’t hand you the hammer, love, I won’t hold up what takes two. Without two hands there’s no mending, just “I’m sorry” with nothing to do. And now that we’re living separate, I’ll tell you without cruelty: if we return just out of habit, we bleed— and I don’t want that role for me. [OUTRO – low] Some loves still care… but together they don’t know how to live.