Where the Quiet Went

I kept the window cracked so the wind could speak for you-- all your unsaid apologies tangled in the curtain hem. You used to hum when you left. Now the walls just listen. You were always the one who made absence feel full. But now the rooms are hollow, a cathedral of ache. “The silence fades with a soft embrace”-- but you forgot to hold me first. At night, I dream in fragments-- your keys, your coat, your breath. Grief is a voice I never learned to answer. I ask for a sign. The air forgets me again.