#empty rooms

I was in your home.

Someone I haven't seen or spoken to in a very long time.

Your face was a blur,

because I had forgotten it.

I watched as you painted pictures,

colored your walls,

cleaned your room.

Always moving through the room

to keep from going still.

I was a ghost

in your small room.

I tried to speak to you,

but you couldn't hear me.

I tried to write to you,

but my words disappeared.

For days,

I watched the same quiet rhythm,

until you finally left.

There was an emptiness there.

I stepped outside

and saw shooting stars,

but my vision filled with light,

and I couldn't see.

You've been gone for years now,

but your faded silhouette

still burns

into the cracked paint

Is this where you live? Haven’t seen you in ages. Probably a rhetorical question though.

And I bet you have to look up the word 'rhetorical.'

You always struck me as someone who could disappear without actually leaving.

A light still on upstairs. A chair facing nothing. Grass reclaiming the entrance one patient centimetre at a time.

Like the place knows you’re coming back eventually, even if you don’t.