
Your coat still hangs where you left the day, Threadbare sleeve brushing time away. The floor creaks soft the house remembers, Every sound a small surrender. I learned the quiet the way you did, By holding still when the world slid. I breathe your name, not to call just to know The air still carries what we let go. The weight of air where your laughter stayed, Heavy with things we never said. I live between what was and is, A pulse beneath the surfaces. Nothing breaks it just rearranges, Love doesn’t fade; it only changes. Your coffee cup stains the counter ring, A calendar page that forgot to swing. I talk to rooms that learned your tone, Walls reply in their brittle drone. Every morning smells like then, Every night begins again. Time keeps moving, but it feels like glue, I walk the shape that once was you. The weight of air where your laughter stayed, Heavy with things we never said. I live between what was and is, A pulse beneath the surfaces. Nothing breaks it just rearranges, Love doesn’t fade; it only changes. Maybe love’s just matter that learned to stay, Even when the light slips away. You’re the echo that never withdrew, The stillness that hums me through. The weight of air still fills the room, A quiet tide, a tender gloom. No need for signs, no need for proof The world still tilts toward you. Nothing ends, it only changes The heart remembers, then re-arranges. [© 2025 Katana~Buck · DG 2324 · All rights reserved]