Crimsonapple

nothing ever happens
and I still write to you
on the inside of matchbooks
on the steam of the mirror after showers
on the dark side of my pillow
where no one looks
i keep your name
folded small
in the pocket of a coat
i never wear anymore
it’s soft now
like fabric that’s been washed too many times
like the memory of your mouth
outside, the streetlights hum
the same tired song
and every car that passes
sounds like the one
you never came back in
i light another cigarette
watch the smoke curl
into the shape of your shoulders
it disappears
just like you did
slow
quiet
beautiful
i don’t want loud
i don’t want answers
i just want to stay here
in this room
where the air still tastes like you
breathing nothing
feeling everything
nothing ever happens
but i still wait
like a song on repeat
that forgot how to end
and if you ever walked back in
i wouldn’t even ask why
i’d just let the ash fall
and say your name
once
soft
like a secret
the night already knows

~Armaan