I have memorized you
like a prayer whispered in a burning room.
You are the ache in my marrow,
the silver thread stitched
through the dark of my lungs.
I do not just love you;
I am haunted by the version of us
that hasn’t even happened yet.
If you leave,
I will be a house with all the doors left open,
waiting for a wind
that smells of your skin
to tell me I am still alive.
Even in the silence,
I am screaming your name
into the hollows of my own chest.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 5:58 PM UTC
I have memorized you
like a prayer whispered in a burning room.
You are the ache in my marrow,
the silver thread stitched
through the dark of my lungs.
I do not just love you;
I am haunted by the version of us
that hasn’t even happened yet.
If you leave,
I will be a house with all the doors left open,
waiting for a wind
that smells of your skin
to tell me I am still alive.
Even in the silence,
I am screaming your name
into the hollows of my own chest.