

Rooms We Didn’t Leave
I still sit on your side of the bed
Though the sheets don’t hold your shape
There’s perfume in the drawer you never opened
And a promise I forgot to break
There’s a light that stays on in the hallway
Like it’s waiting for your key
I walk past it barefoot in silence
Like the night you didn’t sleep with me
There are rooms we didn’t leave
Doors we never closed
Whispers we buried in the drywall
Where your shadow still grows
You’re not here, but you breathe
In the rooms we didn’t leave
The coffee still tastes like a memory
Bittersweet, slow, and warm
And I still play that old vinyl
Where you once sang the harmony wrong
My mirror knows how you watched me
Undress with your eyes, not your hands
Now it shows me a body alone
Still shaped by where you used to stand
There are rooms we didn’t leave
Doors we never closed
Whispers we buried in the drywall
Where your shadow still grows
You’re not here, but you breathe
In the rooms we didn’t leave
I dust the corners you never touched
And pretend it means I’ve healed
But every silence holds a version
Of the way you used to feel
