Verse 1
I sat among the clinking glasses,
amber light and practiced smiles,
watching every word get dressed up
for the self and all its trials.
A pause became a little danger,
a joke became a shield of grace,
every heart trying to stay holy
inside its own reflected face.
Pre-Chorus
And I could feel
the old machinery —
everything turning
into somebody.
Chorus
Oh, it’s hard to love
in a house of mirrors,
where every silence
means too much.
Where grief gets named
before it’s felt,
and every hand
forgets to touch.
Still, there’s a sweetness
moving through —
when no one wins,
and nothing’s proved.
A little room
beyond the self,
where love can move.
Verse 2
One friend cried into her hands there,
and the room began to sway.
One reached quickly for a story,
one tried turning night to day.
But all I said was, “You miss her,”
and something simple entered in:
for one brief breath
there was no armor,
only the ache
and what had been.
Pre-Chorus
No fixing.
No thesis.
No need to understand.
Just sorrow
finding one patch
of unresisting land.
Chorus
Oh, it’s hard to love
in a house of mirrors,
where every feeling
wants a name,
where praise means life
and doubt means exile,
and love gets traded
into shame.
Still, there’s a softness
underneath —
a trembling kindness
in the heat.
A little room
beyond the self,
where people meet.
Bridge
I wanted them to know me
without remaking what they saw.
I wanted hands without conditions,
wanted tenderness without a law.
But maybe love grows cleaner
when that wish begins to break.
Less fantasy,
less rescue,
more sky
above the ache.
Final Chorus
So let me love
through all the mirrors,
through all the stories
people wear.
Not to correct them,
not to save them,
just to stay open
while they’re there.
And if a moment
comes unguarded,
where nothing strains
to be improved,
that’s enough —
more than enough —
for love to move.
Outro
A room.
A tear.
A hand.
A tree.
A little less
of “what about me?”
And somewhere
through the glass,
life passes
into life.
