The Trace

The room still holds you in its corners The dust still falls where you once were We built our house on borrowed mornings Now silence lives behind each door You closed the door so soft I couldn't hear it break I'm still here sweeping glass I never saw you make I gave you my ribs to count You gave me a name I can't pronounce It's sewn into my pulse— a faded trace Every beat says you were never in this place I folded your silence into paper boats I learned to float on words you never wrote I built a window just to watch you leave I built a wall to make myself believe You left so clean, I learned too slow I'm still here learning how to let you go I gave you my ribs to count You gave me a name I can't pronounce It's sewn into my pulse— a faded trace Every beat says you were never in this place I went back to the place we used to stay The light still falls the same way But the shadows have forgotten my name I carved yours into the wood To watch it fade— the way you faded from my view I gave you my ribs to count You gave me a name I can't pronounce It's sewn into my pulse— a faded trace The wound is closing But it's closing around you I don't need you to stay I just need to stop finding you in every afternoon Faded... specimen... Sewn into my pulse... Not yours... Not quite my own...