I Knew Her First

Paroles

[Intro] I knew her before the seating chart had his name beside hers Before the three of us were triangles with careful angles and stares [Verse 1] We met when the bus ran late and the rain made a map of the curb She laughed at my notebook: “You write like you’re billing each word” We traded old paperbacks, lunch breaks, opinions on endings I called her my friend, no footnotes, no hidden depending Then he came around—good heart, quick grin, same cracked phone screen I introduced them; the room changed its grammar between They built their own shorthand, their Sundays, their small private weather I watched from the edge, glad the two people I liked found each other Meanwhile I met someone; her hand found mine in a grocery-store aisle Now I keep that promise in ordinary gestures and miles I learned what it means to show up, to be counted, to stay Then their “we” came apart in a sentence one Tuesday [Hook] I knew her first, but that doesn’t make her mine I love who I’m with; I won’t turn that into a lie My friend lost a future, I found an old feeling awake Three true things in one room, and no clean move to make So I hold every word up, inspect what it costs Some doors aren’t choices; some choices are losses [Verse 2] He told me they’re done, and the silence arrived like a witness I brought him coffee, let his blunt little heartbreak be his business She texted that night: “Can we talk?”—and my pulse tried to edit The years into evidence, as if history grants me a credit But knowing her first is a fact, not a claim, not a deed And longing can counterfeit virtue with exquisite speed I’m not the rescuer, the sequel, the answer she’s owed I’m a man with a partner and a promise I chose Still her voice finds the old part of me, pre-label, pre-plan Where a joke could be sunlight, where silence could stand I can’t call it fate just because it arrives with a past A feeling’s a flare; it’s not proof it should last And my friend isn’t a plot twist to clear from the frame He’s a person who trusted the sound of my name [Hook] I knew her first, but that doesn’t make her mine I love who I’m with; I won’t turn that into a lie My friend lost a future, I found an old feeling awake Three true things in one room, and no clean move to make So I hold every word up, inspect what it costs Some doors aren’t choices; some choices are losses [Bridge] Maybe I tell my girlfriend before the feeling grows teeth Not to hand her the burden, but to stop hiding beneath Maybe I give my friend the room his grief needs to breathe And I don’t turn her kindness to a promise I can keep [Verse 3] There’s a difference between truth and a truth used as leverage Between saying “I feel this” and asking her to manage it So I’ll name it, then frame it with boundaries, not bait No late-night confession that makes her decide my fate First I owe my own love a plain, unvarnished accounting What’s missing, what’s solid, what’s fear doing counting? Then space for my friend, no updates, no side-channel pursuit No audition for comfort disguised as “just telling the truth” If someday the weather is clear and the years rearrange We can meet as ourselves, not as fallout from change But today isn’t someday, and care isn’t taking Sometimes the kindest desire is the one you stop making I knew her first—that’s a chapter, not title or claim I love who I’m with—that’s a vow I must name My friend needs a friend, not a rival in soft disguise And I need to choose honestly, with open eyes [Final Hook] I knew her first, but that doesn’t make her mine I love who I’m with; I won’t turn that into a lie My friend lost a future, I found an old feeling awake Three true things in one room, and no clean move to make So I hold every word up, inspect what it costs Some doors aren’t choices; some choices are losses [Outro] No verdict by midnight, no beautiful excuse Just a careful next sentence—and the nerve not to use A heart as a hallway where everyone waits I can feel what I feel and still choose what I make