Lingering Horizons

The coat still hangs where you left it on the chair

I walk around it like a guest inside my home

The clock keeps time for two

— I let it

Some habits outlive the people they were made for

I rehearsed the speech

a hundred quiet nights

Then I learned the bravest thing was not to call I

left one light on

Not a signal, just the house as it was

If you pass the window,

don't read it wrong

I'm not waiting

I'm learning the dark

One light

left on

Your coffee cup

became a weight for unopened mail

I stopped explaining

silence to the walls

The neighbors ask if you

are traveling

I tell them yes

— and let the sentence fall

I kept your number

like an unfinished prayer

Then I turned the phone face-down

and let it sleep I

left one light on

Not a signal, just the house as it was

If you pass the window,

don't read it wrong I'm not waiting I'm learning the dark

One light

left on

If love was mercy,

it would know when to end

If pride was hunger,

it would call you home again

I choose the quiet in the middle of the two A hallway

lit for no one now I

left one light on

Not a signal, just the house as it was

If you pass the window,

don't turn the key The door still works — I don't

One light

left on

One light

left on

I can find the switch

I just haven't yet