#jldp

You stopped looking for me, 
in the one place you knew exactly where to find me.

The one place I spill my entire heart.

I was not hidden.
I was not a riddle.
I left the door unlatched,
the porch light humming,
my name written in the margins, 
of every page I handed you.

I gave you the playbook, 
dog-eared, underlined,
arrows pointing toward my heart. 
Here is how to hold me, 
without letting me fall through you.

But you folded it closed, 
like instructions you’d rather not read.

You searched everywhere but the obvious;
in noise, in distraction,
in the easy applause of leaving.

And I stayed exactly where I said I would be;
in the softest part of myself,
waiting for footsteps that knew the way.

You didn’t lose me, 
You just stopped putting in any effort.

you said you needed to find yourself,
as if you were misplaced keys, between the space of your own ribs.

I would have stood beside you,
while you untangled every dark thread.
I would have learned the language of every storm.

but the therapist’s chair grew cold, 
the prescription bottle remained a theory, 
& the nights grew louder with the cracks of seltzers.

instead you chose a softer ruin, one that asked nothing of you except to sink.

Nobody came when my breath went thin,
panic pounding louder than my heart.

Fear rushed in like the cold tide,
filling every hollow space.

Wondering if this was the moment,
I’d stop fighting the icy wind clawing at my lungs.

If surrender would be quieter than begging air to stay.

But your absence screamed louder than my gasps, lies spiraled, lights dimmed and oxygen slipped away.

the light’s still on,

in the place we once folded ourselves into.

seeing it from the sidewalk,

that familiar glimmer,

like it’s waiting for us to come home.

the rooms are empty now,

but they still remember us.

the floor knows our footsteps.

the walls hum with old conversations,

the kind that holds a deep laughter.

memory doesn’t follow rules.

it lingers where it wants,

settles into the glow,

pretends just for a moment,

that love hasn’t finished packing.

the light stays on through the night,

and even when it finally goes dark,

I’ll carry that warmth with me,

a small, borrowed brightness,

2026

midnight arrives without asking,

like it always knew I’d be alone.

I toast to a future that feels unfamiliar,

and a past that still feels like home.