The Room Still Breathes You

The Room Still Breathes You

Your cup is still where you left it last,

untouched, yet heavy with days gone past

I keep it there — I don’t know why,

maybe to pretend you didn’t die

Your scent still lingers in the hall,

not strong, but faint, like a distant call

Sometimes I turn, half expecting you,

then hate myself for thinking it too

The bed is colder than it should be,

the night too wide without your knee

brushed up against me in sleep’s slow tide,

you always knew which side was mine

I speak aloud, though no one hears,

and wipe your name from fogged-up mirrors

Grief doesn’t shout, it does not moan,

it just makes silence feel like stone

They tell me love is never lost

but never tell you what it costs,

to wake, to eat, to breathe, to part,

to carry half a broken heart

I miss you so much it hurts.