Pose for You

[ Lyrics ]

I bend for your lens, not your arms.

You say, ‘Just tilt your chin up, let the light kiss your jaw,
close your eyes slow—now breathe like you saw
something sacred, something just out of frame.’
I learn your language, memorize the ache in my name.
Hair down then up, part it left, not right,
bend at the waist like I’m breaking inside.
You hum a melody, call it inspired—
I wonder if you notice I’m tired.

I used to move wild, now I still my hands,
every gesture rehearsed by your commands.
You say I’m natural—funny how that feels like a test,
like I’m half myself, half your best guess.

I bend for your lens, not your arms,
not for love—just the calm before the storm.
You compose my silence like it’s gospel truth,
but I’m just a girl learning how to pose.
I bend for your lens, not your arms.

Last night I dreamed I forgot your words,
walked barefoot through a field, didn’t strike a pose.
The wind tangled my hair, I didn’t fix it,
laughed at a cloud, didn’t pick my lips.
Woke up like I’d lost something, guilty and small—
like I’d broken the rules of being your muse at all.
Now I line my lashes before I say hello,
and I wait for your nod before I move slow.

You praise the way I hold pain in my stare,
but I’m not tragic—I’m just standing there.
You call my stillness ‘devotion,’ I call it restraint—
how much of me is performance? How much remains?

I bend for your lens, not your arms,
not for love—just the calm before the storm.
You compose my silence like it’s gospel truth,
but I’m just a girl learning how to pose.
I bend for your lens, not your arms.

Muted sax solo — breathy, blurred, like a memory half-remembered

I bend for your lens, not your arms,
not for love—just the hush when the flash starts.
You frame my shadow like it’s carved in stone,
but I’m just a girl learning how to pose.
I bend for your lens, not your arms.