Thick as Smoke

Verse 1
The room still holds the warmth of a body
that isn't here anymore.
The sheet still remembers the shape,
cooling now, like everything else.
I walk through the room in his shirt, barefoot.
It doesn't smell like him anymore, just me.
The light comes in at an angle,
low across the floor.

Pre-chorus
The quiet isn't empty.
It's thick, like smoke.
I breathe it in —
not sure if I'm breathing, or just holding still.

Chorus
It's not sadness. It's just quiet.
Quiet enough to hear dust move.
I'm not listening for his steps —
I just haven't learned to walk any other way yet.

Verse 2
The cup still sits where he left it.
I don't wash it — not because I remember,
just because my hands already know
where things are supposed to be.
The mirror shows me
a little more blurred than usual.
Maybe it's the light.
Maybe it's not.

Pre-chorus (repeat)
Chorus (repeat)
Bridge
It isn't only him that leaves —
it's every day, every habit, going with him,
one by one.
The body forgets slower than the mind agrees to.
Time doesn't ask if I'm ready to be someone else.

Outro
The light fades slowly.
I'm not waiting for him.
I just haven't turned off this evening yet.