MARIA LANE
Q: How did the concept of being “haunted” influence the lyrics across the album?
I’ve experienced getting dumped or broken up with since I was fifteen, and it’s always felt like there’s been some kind of curse on me. People get interested and then let me go. Being “haunted” comes from that cycle, not just being left, but being betrayed and replaced. It’s like being a ghost in my own love stories because everyone eventually disappears.
I’ve also always been drawn to that word. It shows up in my older songs too.
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Q: What inspired you to explore the tension between emotional intimacy and physical desire?
For me, physical desire doesn’t exist without emotional intimacy. I have to feel safe in order to want someone that way. I wanted to write about that need, how safety is what actually allows desire to exist. I really dove into that in “Without Undressing Me.” I hope it makes people think about the difference between feeling wanted and feeling seen.
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Q: How did your personal experiences shape the way you wrote about longing and connection?
Being abandoned does a lot. There’s an ongoing fear that everyone will leave, but even after people do, there’s still a longing for connection. When you’ve felt truly safe with someone, you can’t help but want that again.
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Q: Can you talk about the recurring theme of ghosts in your album and what they represent emotionally?
One of my favorite moments is the lyric “I’ve been in graveyards walking round tombstones.” I’m walking through my own graveyard of lovers—people I dated, loved, or was intimate with. In “Ghost,” I wrote about how being ghosted after intimacy can feel like an act of possession, because I think sex especially is a form of that.
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Q: Many of your songs blend yearning with self-protection. Was that duality intentional?
Definitely. I wrote this album from a place of already knowing pain, being lied to, betrayed, and abandoned, and wanting to communicate my needs clearly this time. It’s about learning to speak from hurt without letting it control you, and asking someone not to make you feel all that again.
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Q: In “Without Undressing Me,” you emphasize emotional boundaries. How do you balance vulnerability with self-respect in your writing?
This was new for me. That song came from real experiences, being in casual situations where guys would immediately reach under my shirt and I just hated it. I wanted the song to feel like a boundary, like me reclaiming power. Consent and respect matter so much, and writing about it helped me realize that boundaries don’t make you guarded, they make you grounded.
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Q: Your lyrics often reference physical gestures in intimate settings. How do you ensure they convey emotional depth rather than just desire?
In “NITM,” it starts off very desire-driven, like I’m okay keeping things surface-level so I don’t get my heart broken. But by the end, I break that wall a little and admit, “I wish you’d wanna get to know my heart, but I know that’s not an option.” I use intimacy as a way to reveal emotion, the closeness exposes what’s really underneath.
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Q: Time and seasons are mentioned in songs like “October Skies.” How do you use imagery like this to shape the emotional narrative of your album?
“October Skies” is one of the lighter songs, it’s hopeful, longing to have someone to spend your favorite month with. October’s my favorite time of year, and it’s also when cuffing season starts, when people start craving connection again. The lyric “I’m getting older, don’t wanna wait as the months pass by” hits that realization that time’s moving fast. I’m in my late 20’s, several people are already engaged/and or married and it can feel like you’re missing out on life sometimes if you don’t have that. October became a metaphor for warmth and passing time, wanting something real before it all slips away.
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Q: In “Love Me Like It’s Breathing,” you focus on small, specific acts of care. How important are those details to expressing intimacy in your songs?
They’re everything. Loving someone isn’t just loving them on your terms, it’s caring about what they care about, even if it’s different from you. Those little moments, those “bids for connection,” are what build emotional trust. They’re how love quietly breathes.
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Q: How does comparison—either to past lovers or societal expectations—inform your songwriting on this album?
I was definitely influenced by modern dating while living through it. I was reading Communion by bell hooks, Why Men Love B**es, and School of Life: Relationships, and seeing so many TikToks about how awful dating is right now. All of that made me want to write about how confusing and transactional love can feel today, but still look for something real inside of it.
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Q: Your lyrics often capture fleeting encounters. Do you see these experiences as teaching moments or emotional explorations?
A bit of both. I don’t write about every guy I’ve been with, only the ones who left an impact. I do tend to blame myself when someone ghosts me, but eventually I think, “their loss.” Each of those moments teaches me something about what I truly want versus what I settle for.
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Q: How did you maintain cohesion across the album while each song explores slightly different aspects of love and desire?
The order came naturally. The first song feels like an eerie folktale that sets up the story, then it moves through the highs and lows, wanting love, wanting distraction, wanting love again. I wanted the tracklist to feel like a full-circle emotional arc, where by the end, you’ve lived through a relationship.
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Q: How do you decide which emotional experiences to bring to the forefront in a song?
It depends. Usually it’s something I can’t say out loud, something I wish I could tell someone. Songwriting is where I let myself say the things I can’t in real life. It’s been a lot of yearning lately.
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Q: Your lyrics convey a sense of yearning without dependency. How do you balance hope and self-sufficiency in your writing?
I try to stay optimistic. People tell me my lyrics are super sad, so I made sure a few songs had a bit more light. I wanted to reach new listeners while showing that you can still hope without expecting someone else to save you.
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Q: Did you intentionally structure the album to move from haunting and longing toward tender understanding, as in the progression toward “Love Me Like It’s Breathing”?
Yes! I wanted this album to end happier because Black and Blue definitely didn’t. But it kind of has two endings, the hopeful one where you finally find someone who treats you right, and the haunting one where things start great until they don’t. We left “Love Me Like It’s Breathing” a bit eerie on purpose, so when the album loops, you fall right back into that isolation. I wanted there to be light at the end of the tunnel, but also the feeling that the story could start all over again.
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Q: If you could give listeners one insight into your lyrical philosophy for Kiss Me, I’m Haunted, what would it be?
It’s easy to write about experiences when you’re living through them. Even when it hurts, good art can come from it. I also think it’s important to fill your well, read books, go to museums, see art that inspires your own. I was listening to Jeff Buckley’s “Grace” when I wrote the title track, and I think that energy seeped in. Mostly, I just hope listeners feel less alone in their own haunted stories.
