I still set the alarm five minutes early Like you might text before I wake Your mug's still chipped on the left side I don't move it—I don't know what that says The room isn't empty, just unfamiliar Like it's holding its breath with me I turn to speak out of old reflex Then remember who isn't listening It's not pain—it's the timing of things Something lingers between the beats I don't chase it, I don't pretend I just notice what's still here **You still arrive...** I remember you in the gaps between things The pause before the door would close We were never good at endings Just good at letting moments go Time keeps painting over our footsteps But the floor still knows the weight Some names don't fade in the quiet They just learn how not to stay I don't call it loss, I don't call it fate The air just slowly shifts again What remains doesn't ask for a name It just exists... and fades You're not here, but you still arrive Just less often than before I don't break when the silence hits now I know what it's quiet for I don't miss you loud, I miss you honest It doesn't hurt the same If you're a ghost, you're almost gone now Still a part of me—just lighter weight I stayed longer than you could see If I let go, will you finally leave? Some loves don't leave... they just breathe We don't vanish... We don't vanish... We thin out.
