Love wears many masks. Some whisper. Some wound. Some stay.
In Ten Faces of Love, Zhaina Blair traces the heart’s most intricate pathways: from the tender ache of almost to the quiet strength of letting go, from the innocence of first connection to the fierce power of choosing yourself.
Each song is a portrait: of a moment, a city, a memory, a man, a version of her.
Each song is one face of love.
Some faces are warm, some blurred by rain, some never turned back again.
But every one of them loved… honestly, fully, sometimes silently.
In the smoke of jazz, the hush of rivers, and the pulse of protest, Zhaina sings not just about love,
but about the courage to face it too.
“I knew it would burn — but I lit the match anyway.”
Dangerous Game is the sound of temptation in a dark bar at midnight. It’s about that magnetic pull toward someone who’s no good for you — and diving in anyway. Every lyric is a step closer to the flame, knowing full well you might not come back whole.
Driven by tango rhythms, noir trumpet, and hushed confessions, this song isn’t about regret — it’s about the thrill of knowing the risk, and dancing straight into it.
It’s not safe. It’s not smart. But it’s unforgettable.
“I’m not what I was — but I am whole.”
Whole is a soft exhale after the chaos — not a triumph shouted from rooftops, but a truth whispered to yourself in the mirror. It’s about coming back to yourself after heartbreak, not as you were, but as someone softer, steadier, and real.
The melody is gentle, with warm piano chords and brushed percussion cradling every word. There’s no need to prove anything. No anger left to hold. Just peace, hard-earned and honestly sung.
This isn’t about who left. It’s about who stayed:
you.
“You tasted like comfort and danger in the same breath.”
Poison & Honey is about the kind of love you know will hurt — but you sip it anyway. It’s velvet words with thorns underneath, kisses that linger too long, and promises whispered in the dark with fingers crossed.
It’s not about innocence: it’s about knowing better… and choosing it anyway.
Because some loves come dressed in sweetness.
And still, they leave a sting.
“Some hearts circle the world… just to land where they began.”
Love Walks Back Home is for the love that didn’t last the first time — but found its way again. It’s not grand or dramatic. It’s gentle, unforced. Like a knock at the door you stopped expecting… but always hoped for.
Framed by mellow jazz guitar, soft horns, and a steady rhythm, the song moves like a slow Sunday morning — no rush, just truth. It’s not about rewriting the past. It’s about choosing each other again, with open eyes.
Sometimes, love doesn’t need fireworks. Just a familiar key. And a heart that still remembers how to open.
“The love was real — the timing wasn’t.”
If Only We Had More Time is a quiet ache in the shape of a song. It’s about the kind of love that had everything… except enough time to grow. Nothing went wrong, except the clock.
With slow, echoing piano and strings that rise like a lump in your throat, the track holds space for every unspoken plan, every almost, and every glance that said “not now.”
Some love stories don’t break. They just pause.
on the very page you never wanted to turn.
“You’re still mine… just not here.”
Miles Between Us is about the love that lingers across cities, screens, and silence. It’s the long pause after a “good night” text, the ache of not knowing when you’ll touch again, but loving anyway.
The groove is slow and steady, like headlights on a quiet highway. Smooth guitar, echoing trumpet, and vocals that feel handwritten. It’s not a breakup song. It’s a holding on song — soft, stretched thin, and real.
Because some love doesn’t disappear. It just drifts…
waiting for a bridge to be built.
“You never promised forever — but you made it feel like you might.”
Love Me Then Leave Me is for the ones who knew how it would end, and still walked in smiling. It’s messy. It’s addictive. It’s the kind of love that sweeps you off your feet. And drops you hard.
Built on gritty blues and raw, percussive swing, the track pulses with the rhythm of a heart that knew better… but stayed anyway. The vocals are sharp, smoky, and unapologetic — like closing the door on someone you still ache for.
It’s not weakness. It’s what we do for love. Even when it walks away.
“You saw someone beautiful in me… before I could.”
Through Your Eyes is about the quiet transformation that happens when someone loves you just right. It’s not loud. It doesn’t demand. But slowly, it rewrites the way you speak to yourself.
The arrangement is tender — soft jazz chords, warm harmonies, and a melody that floats like a whispered truth. This isn’t a song about falling in love. It’s about becoming someone who finally believes they’re worthy of it.
Because sometimes, it takes another heart to help you find your own reflection. And see that you were whole all along.
“It only took a second… but I knew.”
Instant is the sound of love striking like lightning. It’s about the moment your eyes meet, the world blurs, and time folds itself around one impossible spark. You don’t plan it. You don’t explain it. You just know.
The song hits fast — crisp drums, punchy piano, breathless vocals dancing on top of it all. It’s flirty. It’s dizzy. It’s honest. Because sometimes love doesn’t take its time…
It just arrives. One look. One second.
And your story changes forever.
“You were gravity — and I never stood a chance.”
Magnetic is all about that invisible force — the one that pulls two people together before either of them can name it. It’s not logical, not careful, not planned. It just is.
The rhythm is sultry and hypnotic, driven by bass and breath, with a beat that pulses like a racing heart. Vocals slide and spark, giving in to the chemistry. This isn’t love that grows: it’s love that crashes in.
You don’t ask why. You don’t ask how.
You just move closer.