I saw your ghost in the doorway,
wearing my old coat,
talking to the walls like I’m still listening.
You said “I gave you everything,”
but everything was never enough for the silence
we kept feeding.
I’m not your exile—
you left me in these rooms,
all the light switches broken,
and I still flinch when the floorboards
remember your weight.
Come collect your echo;
it’s been singing me awake.