#your influence

Sitting in my room,

playing our songs,

remembering you’re the reason

my taste changed.

I keep waiting

for the feeling to arrive.

Maybe this is denial—

the quiet belief

I’ll wake up to

good morning, love.

But I know it’s coming.

The feeling builds slowly,

like water pressing against a dam—

not crashing,

just rising,

cracking the walls

a little at a time.

The I love yous

that used to echo here.

My voice calming you to sleep.

Your voice living

where silence shouldn’t.

Maybe it’s the empty hours

that will do it—

when time gets too loud,

when I realize

I may never hear it again.

And maybe then

the dam finally gives,

and I’m carried by the flood