Unfollow (Then Undo)
Track 6 of Double Exposure
[ Lyrics ]
I unfollowed, then missed your face. Still see your story at 2:03 a.m., me in a frame you saved — just my shoulder, no plans. You tagged another girl with the same middle-part shine, laughing in the kitchen where we wrote that one line. My phone lights up — I don’t tap through. Six drafts sent nowhere, all just 'how are you?' That green text glow where you said, 'We’re fine,' now echoes like a room that lost its design. The matcha’s gone cold in the jar on my shelf, dusty like the co-write we left on the desk. You commented 'love this' on a stranger’s photo — me? Radio silence since the green room low. I unfollowed, then missed your face, missed the way you’d pause my worst phase. Scrolled so fast but the truth moved slow — I don’t hate you, I miss what we know. Found that Google Doc, scrolled to the bottom, one new edit in it — your handwriting on top: 'let the chorus breathe like the night we skipped sleep —' but you didn’t add your name, just sank back into the deep. I play the voice memo where we harmonized, now it cuts off abrupt — me laughing, you wise. The outro’s still blank. Guess we both lost the key, but I keep it open like you might still come back to me. I check your close friends, hold my breath, see a skyline we loved — then look away, 'what’s next?' We used to be 'what’s next' — now I’m just the past tense, trading silence for pride like it made any difference. I unfollowed, then missed your face, missed the way you’d pause my worst phase. Scrolled so fast but the truth moved slow — I don’t hate you, I miss what we know. It wasn’t the fame, it wasn’t the light — it was writing in bed with the city in sight. It wasn’t the credit, it wasn’t the fight — it was knowing someone saw my soul, plain and right. And I built a wall just to prove I could stand, but the foundation was us — and I miss the damn. I unfollowed, then missed your face, missed the way you held my chaos in place. Scrolled so fast but the truth moved slow — I don’t hate you, I miss what we know. 'what we know' — 'missed your face' — Undo.