where there was a door
i was the space between it
and the wall
not wide enough to pass
not narrow enough
to forget
where there was a road
i was its end
where there was a voice
i was the quiet
before it formed
the moment when breath decides
to become sound
or not
i have been sitting here so long
the floor forgot
i was not part of it
the walls
stopped waiting
the dust settled on me
like something
given
to the quiet
of the room
then you came
with a question
i didn’t answer
the question did
you are
that makes me
enough
if you go
i will become
whatever this room becomes
when no one watches
a chair
a shadow
a space between spaces
that still remembers
someone sat here
and did not walk away