If I Could Believe

This song is a quiet storm of unresolved emotion — a meditation on love lost without clarity or closure. It speaks from the hollow centre of heartbreak, where questions remain unanswered, and acceptance feels just out of reach.

The lyrics unravel the confusion and helplessness that follow the end of a relationship that didn’t end in a fight, a betrayal, or even a clear goodbye — just a slow, silent drift into absence. The narrator is left sitting in an empty room, surrounded by echoes, scents, and objects that still hold the shape of someone who’s no longer there. Every verse is steeped in longing, but what makes it especially painful is the absence of understanding — not knowing what went wrong, or why.

The chorus wrestles with that desperate, recurring thought: “If I could just believe…” — a haunting repetition that captures the way grief loops in on itself, looking for reasons, for justice, for meaning. But none come. It’s not just loss; it’s ambiguous loss, and that makes healing feel impossible.

Through subtle, almost mundane imagery — a ticking clock, a creaking door, a coffee mug — the song creates a vivid emotional landscape. These aren’t just props; they’re witnesses to love and its quiet vanishing act.

At its core, this is a song about trying to make peace with the unknown. There’s no clean resolution, no grand catharsis — just the aching truth that sometimes people leave, and we never really know why. And all we can do is sit with the ache, replay the memories, and learn how to keep breathing with a heart that still waits by the door.