She Was The Room

[Intro – setting the stage]

I woke up tasting someone else's name.

Teeth gritty. Mouth dry.

I didn’t speak it—

but the mirror fogged like I did.

-

There’s tea on the table again.

Only one cup, and it’s full.

I never made it.

But it’s always hot.

Always steaming

like lungs that haven’t quit yet.

-

She’s gone.

She’s not.

The wallpaper knows better than I do.

-

[Verse 1 – cracked rhyme]

She was light in the hall

without a switch.

She was the hiss in the cord,

the blackout twitch.

Her hair’s in the brush I threw away.

It came back.

Wet.

-

She hums when the fridge clicks.

She knocks in fives.

I counted.

She likes prime numbers.

She always did.

I didn't.

I do now.

-

[False Chorus – collapse]

She was the room—

She was the skin of it.

The sag in the ceiling,

the sigh in the vent,

the mold behind my photographs

growing in her shape.

-

She never left.

She just turned everything else

into leaving—

into leaving.

-

[Verse 2 – fracture begins]

I burned her letters,

but the ink stayed in my lungs.

Every time I breathe

I cough up vowels.

They spell wait.

-

I hear her name in silence.

I hear it more when I laugh.

She’s in the gaps

between my moments.

She’s humming.

-

[Bridge – self-destructs halfway through]

I found myself sleeping

on her side of the bed.

I found myself in her side of the bed.

My hands were too small.

My mouth too wide.

I said “I’m fine”

in her voice.

And I answered.

-

[Wailing Chorus – broken harmony]

She was the room.

I was the key.

Now I turn in circles

and the lock’s in me.

-

She’s not haunting—

she’s hatching.

She’s leaking.

She’s laughing.

-

The air tastes like her wrists.

The walls sigh like her moans.

I drew a door with my own blood.

She walked through it.

Backwards.

-

[Verse 3 – guilt and rot]

I kissed someone else

with her name in my teeth.

They noticed.

I said it was nothing.

But they touched my shoulder and said,

“She’s still here, isn’t she?”

And I cried.

But not for myself.

-

[Outro – beyond coherence]

If I leave,

she leaves with me.

If I stay,

she peels me open.

She’s the silence

between heartbeats

that isn’t empty.

-

She was the room.

She is the room.

She will be the room.

-

And you?

You’re already inside her.

You just haven’t

looked down

at your hands,

yet.

.

---

The Song

---

The Context

First time I heard Comfortably Numb I was chasing a girl crush who wrote sad poems in her science book and smelled like cigarettes and prophecy. She loved Floyd. I pretended I did too—so she’d love me back. She didn’t. But Floyd stuck.

That song cracked something open. Showed me numbness could hum. Grief could have tone.

Later came Depeche Mode for lust, Bohren for sorrow slowed to syrup, and Waits for that gravelly paranoia—especially What’s He Building in There?, which felt like a question I should never answer.

All of that lives in my writing now. Slice a line and you’ll see.

I used Suno to sing this piece because my voice? Think frog with trust issues.

But the vibe?

That’s pure me.

Ghosted and gasping.

Still singing.