Eugeny Manyahin - Unspoken

Heat.
Hey, Heat.
The tea is getting cold upon the stand.
You're scrolling through your phone with tired hands.
Outside the city.
Traffic hums alone.
Your jackets on my chair where it belongs.
No need to speak.
There's nothing left
To prove.
The crowded world has finally stopped
Its move.
Just staying here and listening to you breathe
In all this quiet.
Finally