"The Quiet After You"

Stop the morning from breaking, pull back the sun,

Unmake the sky where your voice once begun.

Let shadows spill where your laughter used to lie,

Undo the color, let the daylight die.

Silence the kettle, unplug the phone,

There’s no one to call since I’m now alone.

The mirror is blank, the chair has no weight,

Even the walls seem to hesitate.

You left like fog at the touch of day,

Soft and slow, then blown away.

No thunder marked your quiet flight—

Just a hush that folded into night.

Take down the pictures, they lie too well.

The smiles in frames, they do not tell

Of the echo that hums in this hollow chest,

Or the sleep that fails to grant me rest.

I walk the house like a ghost in pain,

Searching the silence, again, again—

For the sound of your steps, your humming tune,

A laugh that once warmed every room.

Your coat still hangs by the open door,

Shoes sit waiting on the floor.

Your cup is there, untouched, still full—

But every color now feels dull.

I pressed my ear to your favorite song,

But the notes feel crooked, the rhythm wrong.

The lyrics we once mouthed in bed

Are ashes now inside my head.

You were the north star, calm and bright,

A compass held through darkest night.

Now the sky has scattered all direction—

I’m lost inside your recollection.

I speak your name but hear no sound.

Even God stays underground.

I wrote you letters you’ll never read,

Folded them into my evening need.

Time is cruel—it ticks and lies,

Promises healing, then never tries.

Each second’s a thread that pulls me tight,

Binding me to your fading light.

They say, “You’ll smile again someday,”

But how can I in this constant gray?

The sun feels fake, the breeze too loud—

I move like wind behind a shroud.

If I could stitch the air to your touch,

I’d breathe it in—just once, too much.

If I could trade my sleep for years,

I’d dream you back, erase these tears.

You were not perfect, that I knew,

But no one ever fit so true.

The way you spoke, the way you stood—

You made this shattered world seem good.

I remember the way you'd laugh at rain,

Dance in puddles to ease the pain.

Now thunder rolls with a colder sound—

As if the sky knows you're not around.

I count the tiles beneath my feet,

Each step a memory I can’t delete.

The stairs remember your weight, your pace—

The door still leans toward your face.

I dream of trains we never took,

Of pages left in a half-read book.

Your scarf still sleeps on the windowsill,

And the wind, some days, feels like you still.

Now I sit by the lamp you used to light,

Its glow too golden, its warmth too right.

Even shadows seem to miss your frame—

Nothing feels quite the same.

Grief is not loud—it barely weeps.

It hides in moments when the world sleeps.

It’s in the pause before I speak,

In the way my voice has grown so weak.

Let the wind take the flowers I bring.

They mean nothing now; they mean everything.

Let the stars blink their cold replies—

You’ve gone where love cannot disguise.

Still, I wake, and I breathe, and I try to be,

In this version of life where you are not with me.

But make no mistake—I am not whole,

Just a shadow that mimics a broken soul.