Where the Road Bends
Your book stays on the highest shelf, untouched and still.
You left it like a sign, like you’d be back by noon,
Like this house was just a pause, not the end of the tune.
I keep the silence like a secret I can’t tell,
It pulls me down like a wet coat, heavy as hell.
But I still check the door, just to see the light spill in—
As if the world could bring you back again.
If my road ever turns, I’ll meet you somewhere clear,
Not with promises I can’t keep, but with what’s real right here.
The world will change before I find the way, I know,
But the love you gave me, I’ll carry it wherever I go.
The lamp clicks on, the shadow crawls across the wall,
That smirk I wore like armor now feels small.
I’m learning how to walk without you at my side,
Forgetting how I used to wait for every sign.
There’s no answer in the quiet, no reason to stay,
Just your name in my temples, burning day by day.
My heart’s a bird in a cage, but I’m opening the door—
Learning how to breathe without waiting anymore.
If the road turns here, I’ll somehow meet you there,
Not with words I can’t hold, but with truth in the air.
And if the world changes before I find my way,
I’ll carry what you gave me through every new day.
Maybe life’s not a harbor, but a storm at sea,
Where ships lose their course and never find the key.
Our harbor’s frozen over, the lighthouse gone to gray,
No one’s waiting here, but I remember anyway.
If the road turns here, I’ll meet you in the years,
With the courage to start and the strength to face my fears.
When the maps are new and everything’s rearranged,
I’ll still know what to say: you meant the world to me, it’s true.
The mug is empty, the book goes in the bag,
The key stays on the table—a quiet goodbye, no fuss, no drag.
I unfold the note, read the words, and let them go,
Making space in my heart for the sun to rise again, you know.
I’ll keep you not as a wound, but as the sunrise—
One that warmed me once, and taught me how to live.
Свидетельство о публикации №126091203160