Left my coat on your chair
The one with the broken second button
Six months back, or maybe more
I stopped counting when the counting got too heavy
Winter came and went
I still knew where you kept the spare
That worn-down groove
Inside my palm, your doorknob
All the things I meant to say
Got packed into a box I never opened
I still reach
For a warmth that I can't name
Something in the tide marks on the wall
Tells me you came
And maybe leaving slow is just another way of staying
Maybe I was holding what I thought I was giving away
I found your handwriting
Inside the cover of a book I'd barely started
Just a date, a single line
"Come find me when you're ready"— softly parted
I read it twice
Then I folded it back in
Some weight sits
Too tender to examine
And the weeks press flat like flowers in a drawer
Too dried to grieve, too kept to throw away
I still reach
For a warmth that I can't name
Something in the tide marks on the wall
Tells me you came
And maybe leaving slow is just another way of staying
Maybe I was holding what I thought I was giving away
Does the space you left behind
Know it's still yours?
Do I keep the shape of you
Behind unlocked doors?
Does the space you left behind
Know it's still yours?
Do I keep the shape of you
Behind unlocked doors?