Empty Rooms

Empty Rooms

Empty rooms don't echo anymore,
They sigh
low, like someone remembering
how it felt to be needed.

The clock ticks not to keep time,
but to remind me
of every second that passed without you.

I talk to the walls now.
They don't answer,
but sometimes, I swear, they flinch
when I whisper your name.

The sunlight that once warmed the floor
now looks pale, like it's afraid
to touch what you've left behind.

I water the plants you planted,
though they, too, have given up
waiting for your voice.

There's a dent in the pillow you once used.
I don't fix it.
I pretend you're just in the kitchen,
making coffee you'll never finish.

They say time heals.
But I think time just learns to walk around the pain
instead of stepping on it.

And I
I'm just here, in this room,
empty, but still standing.
Like love that forgot how to leave.

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