I Left the Door Open for You
I left the door open for you— not wide, just enough for memory to slip through.
I boxed our laughter in velvet, so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Our secrets, folded like letters no one else would understand. Inside jokes rattling softly, the way they used to fill silence with joy.
Our sadness—I didn’t throw it away. I pressed it between pages, preserving the way we cried without needing to explain.
Everything’s stacked neatly in the corner of a room I never let anyone enter. Dust gathers, but I keep it clean enough for your return.
And if you don’t come back— well, I’ll still leave the light on, just in case.