Faded Nights
The couch swallowed time like it had room for all of it the noise, the shaking hands the half-finished promises we stopped believing mid-sentence
The room always felt too dim of maybe it was us the way light couldn't quite reach what we were becoming
We told ourselves stories that didn't hold up in the daylight where everything sounded less like escape ad more like losing track of what we were running from
There was a language we only spoke at night slow, heavy slipping between silence and static where names started to feel like something far away
I remember the way mornings came without permission uninvited pulling us back into shape we didn't recognize anymore
You'd stare at nothing like it owed you answers and I'd pretend I didn't see the distance growing in the space between breaths
We didn't talk about it not really
Because naming it made it real in a way we couldn't outrun
And every night after that felt the same a fading a slipping a quiet disappearing act neither of us knew how to stop or admit what we were doing
Now all that's left are echoes in the upholstery ghosts of laughter that don't quite belong to us anymore
And I keep thinking how easy it was to disappear together and how much harder it is now to come back alone
