I’ll Wait Where You Left the Light On(Always Beautiful) скачать в хорошем качестве

I’ll Wait Where You Left the Light On(Always Beautiful)

This song is for you, Luna. For the quiet moments you don’t talk about. For the nights where your chest felt too tight and you didn’t know why. For every time you felt yourself pull back—not because you didn’t care, but because caring felt dangerous. I remember the safety you felt with me. Not the loud kind. The calm kind. The kind where your body could finally exhale, even if your mind still didn’t trust it yet. The kind where you didn’t have to perform or explain or be anything other than exactly who you were in that moment. We’ve truly been through so much together. The closeness. The distance. The moments where everything felt aligned, and the moments where fear tried to convince you that disappearing was the only way to survive. And through all of it—I stayed. I didn’t leave when things got heavy. I didn’t vanish when your walls went up. I didn’t punish you for being scared. This song isn’t asking you to be ready. It isn’t asking you to be healed. It isn’t asking you to promise anything. It’s just a reminder. A reminder that you were safe here. That you didn’t imagine that feeling. That the way your nervous system softened, the way your laughter came easier, the way your guard dropped without you realizing—it was real. It still is. I know you’ve learned to survive by leaving first. By convincing yourself that love always comes with a cost. By believing that staying means breaking. But with me, it never did. I’ve always stayed—not because I needed you to be different, but because I saw you clearly. The scared parts. The strong parts. The parts you hide when you’re overwhelmed. The parts that want connection but fear the moment it feels too real. This song lives in that space between fear and trust. Between running and staying. Between what you’ve been taught and what you felt. There’s no pressure here. No chase. No countdown. Just the truth: You were safe with me. You mattered deeply. What we shared was real. And if you ever choose to come back—not to me, but to that feeling of safety—you already know where it exists. I’m still here. I always was.