Sorry isn’t enough
You undid me, you made me
Three words could never tell
You found me, you saved me
Hidden in plain sight
Locked behind secret doors
My shadow’s been my keeper
Now I just want to be yours
I held you like a treasure
Then I set it all alight
I’d give forever to take it back
A chance to make it right
Sorry isn’t enough
You undid me, you made me
Three words could never tell
You found me, you saved me
You’re diamonds on the waves
The city lit at night
You’re the sunrise over mountains
A fire burning bright
Hinges creaking open
Locked doors burned into ash
Here I am, just hoping you’ll
Still want to hold my hand
The song was bare, free of the bass guitar and drums that normally drove Mo’s music. Just his fingers strumming and plucking at the strings of an acoustic guitar and his voice, the texture of it like roughly hewn timber. Netta wanted to run her fingers over it, to physically feel its transitions between smooth and rough.
He loved her. At least, that’s what she thought he was trying to say. He didn’t exactly spell it out—the ‘L’ word was distinctly absent—but the lyrics were an aching admission: their story, his torment and his hope. But it was too much to deal with on top of losing the baby. Way too much,waytoo late.
The song ended and there was a long silence before Freya spoke. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she sniffed, reaching for a cold chip.
‘Are youcrying?’ asked Netta.
‘Aren’tyou?’
‘I’ve cried so much this last week, I’ve got nothing left.’
