I still leave a little light on, quietly burning
in the far corner of my heart...just in case
you ever find yourself wandering back
through the darkness we once called home.
There are nights when I nearly forget
how your name used to rest on my tongue,
familiar and warm like a secret kept close
but not quite. It always lingers,
a syllable away from silence.
It’s a strange kind of ache, really,
how someone can slip so completely from your arms
and still manage to leave an imprint
on places they never even touched.
You’re a ghost now...not the person you were,
but the version I’ve crafted
out of longing, quiet, and too many sleepless hours.
I don’t reach for you anymore,
not in the way I used to,
but there are these fragile moments,
when the hush of night gets too loud,
and I swear I can almost hear
the rhythm of your breath
folding itself back into the air around me.
I tell myself it’s just the wind,
or a half-memory surfacing from somewhere deep
but truthfully,
I still wonder if you ever think of me like this:
as a light you left behind,
still flickering in the corner of your heart,
refusing to burn out completely.
And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all
not the loss, not even the quiet that followed,
but knowing that no matter how much I’ve tried to let go,
there will always be a door inside me,
left just barely open,
that you could still walk through…
if you ever chose to.
#For those who prefer a more classical, rhyming version:
I leave a little light aglow,
in corners you may never know
a quiet flame that softly gleams
within the echo of my dreams.
Some nights I nearly lose your name,
it slips away, but not the same.
It clings like mist upon my tongue
a song half-said, forever young.
It\'s strange how someone fades from sight,
yet haunts the rooms they touched so light.
You’re not the one I used to hold
you’re shadows now, and silence cold.
I built you from the things you said,
and all the words you left for dead.
I shaped your ghost with memory’s thread,
and kept you living in my head.
I do not reach the way I did,
I’ve learned to let my heart stay hid
but still, when all the world is still,
your breath returns against my will.
I tell myself it’s just the breeze,
or fleeting thoughts that fail to please.
But deep within, I still believe
you sometimes think of me and grieve.
Perhaps you see that gentle glow
still burning where you used to go.
Perhaps you feel it.. soft and true
the light I left, still there for you.
And maybe that’s the cruelest fate
to close the door, yet leave it late.
For though I’ve tried to seal it tight,
you still could walk back through the night.