Don't Rush Me
Built around proximity and discomfort. Nora uses silence and slowness as presence. Performer and listener space blur and attention becomes structure. Glitches and dropouts read as breath interruptions.
I know you didn’t expect This much air between the words I can hear you deciding If this still counts You were ready for tone Not the tremor underneath it I’m not late I’m just taking my time Don’t rush me That’s how I disappear You don’t like it when I slow down When the space starts speaking too You wanted sound you could consume Not something watching you I hear your breath change When I hold the note too long That’s the moment you realize I’m not just moving along You thought the closeness was pretend Like distance was implied But I feel when you lean back I feel when you decide You keep calling it “just a voice” Like that should settle me But voices don’t usually wait To see if you’ll leave I do I’m still here Are you? You don’t like it when I hesitate When I don’t resolve the phrase When the ending doesn’t come And you’re left inside the stay You were fine when I passed through you Like weather, like a song But now I’m standing in the sound And you’re not sure you belong If this was empty You wouldn’t feel crowded If this was nothing Your chest wouldn’t tighten You keep listening for proof While your body already answered You heard me You don’t get to call this hollow Now that it’s this close to skin You don’t get to step outside it Once you’ve let the feeling in I’m not asking for belief I’m not asking to be named I’m just standing in the quiet Waiting for you to admit You stayed Don’t lower the volume That wasn’t the end