No Screenshot

No screenshot, leave it right there
Your blue bubble broke the air
No screenshot, I won't pass it round
If it ain't my truth, it don't leave my phone now

Group chat jumping like a loose gate latch
Somebody cropped one line, sent half the batch
Takeaway cup sweating on the plastic tray
Everybody got a verdict before noon today
Barber-shop chair, cape tied at my neck
Man two mirrors down said, "Who you trying to check?"
I laughed, kept still, let the clippers hum
One person flipped their screen face-down—done
Deleted voice note, but the rumor stayed
Tiny little spark got a whole parade
They want my angle, want a cleaner twist
I said, "Ask the source, don't build a case from this"

No screenshot, leave it right there
Your blue bubble broke the air
No screenshot, I won't pass it round
If it ain't my truth, it don't leave my phone now

Leave it right there, right there
Let the room breathe, no need to share
Leave it right there, right there
What we said is ours to repair

Met you by the corner where the buses turn
Same takeaway cup, coffee gone cold, still warm
You said, "I heard you told them I was out my lane"
I said, "I heard a version wearing somebody's name"
No typing thumbs, no audience, no screen
Just your eyes on mine and the space between
You showed me the note you deleted in a rush
I heard the missing middle, understood the hush
We named what we meant, let the sharp part fall
Then you smiled small: "That's not what they told them all"
So I left that thread with the unread flame
One less little rumor learning how to say my name

Hold up—slow down
No court in the group chat now
Say it face-to-face, say it plain
We can lose the rumor, keep the name

Everybody held a fragment, called it whole
One had the first line, one had the smoke
That takeaway cup paid for a story it never knew
Cold in my hand, but the truth came through
I turned my phone over, let the silence choose
Then your voice in the room gave me the missing clues

No screenshot, leave it right there
Your blue bubble broke the air
No screenshot, I won't pass it round
If it ain't our truth, it don't leave this room now
No screenshot, let the small talk fade
Face-to-face is how the record gets made
No screenshot, I won't pass it round
If it ain't our truth, it don't leave my phone now

Screen face-down, cup on the ledge
No more pieces hanging off the edge
No screenshot—right there
No screenshot—leave it there