I wake to a world that does not feel mine,
Rooms stretch too hollow, clocks stutter in time.
The air tastes of absence, the ground hums with ache,
As if I am living a life by mistake.

You were a promise, a breath in the dark,
A name on my tongue that never left a mark.
Did I conjure you up, some fevered belief?
A phantom, a whisper, a love turned to grief?

Did you turn away, did you vanish in time?
Did the world pull you back and leave none of you mine?
Or were you unmade, like frost on the glass,
A shimmer, a shadow, a ghost meant to pass?

The stars look wrong, they leer when I stare,
Their light bends sideways, their silence aware.
Do they know where you’ve gone, where you bled into space?
Or do they still map the shape of your face?

I swore you were here—your breath on the air,
A shiver, a shadow, a touch never there.
But even the echoes have turned from my cries,
As if they have learned what I could not realize.

I glimpse you in halls where you’ve never been,
In doorways that yawn, in rooms wearing thin.
I search for your voice in the hush of the trees,
But the wind only answers in laughter and leaves.

Was I only a whisper, a flicker, a breath?
A thing left to wither, to fade without death?
Or was I illusion—some half-written dream,
A thought that dissolved like mist in the seam?

The sky splits open, the air pulls too thin,
The hours unravel, collapse from within.
If you were a dream, then let me stay blind,
For morning will shatter what’s left of my mind.

Did you turn away, or were you a lie?
A breath on the glass, a trick of the eye?
Do you wake in the dark with a whisper of me,
Or was I the ghost, and you set yourself free?

So bury me deep where the memories fade,
Where no one can find what the hollow has made.
For if you were nothing, then what is this ache?
A life left untethered, in a world I forsake.