I Forbid You To Leave Me

I Forbid You To Leave Me

The room tightened when you said nothing,

As if silence had weight and intent.

Walls leaned closer to listen,

Waiting to hear what was never said.

Your absence did not behave like loss,

It stayed active, alert, awake.

Footsteps echoed without feet,

Circling the shape you used to take.

I spoke your name once carefully,

The air resisted the sound.

Something older than language stirred,

As though permission had been found.

Lights flickered without failing,

Time hesitated without stopping.

The house adjusted its posture,

Learning how to keep you here.

I forbid you to leave me,

Not as a plea, not as prayer.

As a rule spoken into the dark,

Where rules still listen.

Shadows gathered in agreement,

Corners thick with quiet intent.

Even memory stood at attention,

Unsure what it was meant to prevent.

You linger now in ordinary places,

Between breaths, between blinks.

Not living, not gone,

Held where certainty breaks.

If you ever try to leave again,

Know this was not desperation.

It was instruction, spoken clearly,

And the dark understood the command.