“Cœur Poids Plume” – literally “Feather-Weight Heart” – is Hervé’s poetic plunge into that dizzy moment when a relationship has cracked but the feelings are still fluttering around. The singer paces a city street, hearing the metro rumble beneath his feet while memories blur in and out of focus. Silence frightens him as much as noise, and he keeps repeating “Aussi loin que je me souvienne, j’me souviens plus” (“As far back as I remember, I don’t remember anymore”), showing how heartbreak can scramble time itself. Between the hum of the city and the static in his mind, he tries to “re-glue the little bits of you” like someone piecing together a broken photograph, yet every attempt reminds him of just how fragile – how feather-light – his heart now feels.
Despite the pain, there’s a strange buoyancy in the refrain “J’ai le cœur poids plume”. A feather is delicate but it also floats, and Hervé hints that vulnerability can become a kind of freedom. His promise “Je t’aimerai si tu m’aimes plus” (“I’ll love you if you love me no more”) sounds contradictory, yet it captures the messy after-shocks of love: fear, hope, resentment, tenderness – all pulsing to an electronic beat that echoes a racing, then faltering, heartbeat. In short, the song is a neon-lit confession of trying to heal, trying to remember, and discovering that a heart can be light enough to drift away or strong enough to rise again.