I Remember You for No Good Reason #poetry

I remember you like static on a dead radio,
like a half-chewed pencil abandoned on a desk in a house I never lived in.
You are the taste of a word I meant to say but never did,
a language forgotten mid-sentence, syllables curling into fog.

You are the hum in the floorboards of a place that no longer exists,
a blueprint the wind erased, a doorbell pressed by no one.
Your voice is a shadow cast by a moth too small to matter.
Why do you linger like dust in unopened books?

I don’t need you. I don’t want you.
You are the aftertaste of a dream I woke from too late,
a strand of someone else’s hair on my sleeve.
You are a number on an old phone bill,
a bill from a house I never lived in, from a year I never survived.

You are the sound of my name in a stranger’s mouth,
the click of a key unlocking nothing.
You are the ghost of a cigarette I never smoked,
the ash of a memory I never made.

You are the ink smudged on a love letter that was never sent,
a train ticket to a station that no longer has tracks.
You are the scent of oranges in a room where no fruit has been,
the shape of a face in a painting too abstract to recognize.

You are the flicker of a neon sign spelling out words that don’t exist,
a phantom limb aching for a body long lost.
You are the whisper of ocean waves in a landlocked town,
the echo of music playing from a broken record player spinning in silence.

Where Are You?

Where are you when I turn to speak and find only air?
Are you pressed between the pages of an old diary, ink fading into silence?
Are you curled up in the static between radio stations, a voice trying to break through?
Are you the hum of a refrigerator at midnight, filling the emptiness with something that almost sounds like breath?

Where are you when I trace the edges of a memory,
and find only the outline, the hollowed absence of a presence I can't explain?
Are you the wind pressing against my window, whispering secrets in a language I no longer understand?
Are you the spaces between my fingers, the empty chair at my table, the mirror that doesn't quite reflect me right?

Where are you when the clocks stop for a fraction of a second,
and the world feels misaligned, as if something is missing,
something I was supposed to hold onto but let slip through the cracks?
Are you the unfinished sentence, the unplayed note, the unopened letter waiting in a mailbox that no longer exists?

There is no good reason for you to exist anymore,
and yet, I keep looking for you.
I keep listening.
I keep remembering.

There is no good reason at all.

Look at Me at Least Once

Look at me at least once, if only to prove you were ever real.
Let your gaze be the ghostlight flickering in an empty theater,
the last ember in a dying fire,
the reflection in a puddle that vanishes before I reach it.

Look at me through the glass of forgotten storefronts,
from behind the curtain of a window that no longer opens.
Be the face that lingers in a photo I don’t remember taking,
the outline of a figure walking away in a dream I wake from too soon.

I call for you in the silent corridors of my mind,
in the static hum between the seconds of a clock that ticks but never chimes.
Turn, even for a moment, before time smudges you into nothing,
before memory dissolves you into a shape without a name.

Look at me at least once, if only to let me go.
Leave me with the finality of an exhale,
with the closure of a door that locks itself.
Don’t linger like an echo stretched too thin,
a voice lost in the wind that carries no answer.

Look at me, just once,
and then disappear for good.

Do I Feel You, Do You Feel Me

Do I feel you in the spaces between my ribs, where breath once filled the gaps?
Are you the tremor in my fingers when I hold onto something too tightly,
or the warmth that lingers on my palm after I press it against the cold glass of a memory?

Do I feel you in the weight of the night, heavy with unspoken words?
Are you the sigh that escapes before sleep claims me,
or the restless toss of my body, turning over the shape of your absence?

Do you feel me when the wind shifts suddenly,
as if the world momentarily forgot which direction to pull you in?
Am I the shiver along your spine when you pass a place we never went together,
or the inexplicable pause in your step when something tugs at the edges of recognition?

Do I feel you when I step into an empty room and sense a presence lingering just out of reach?
Are you the hush before a storm, the held breath of the universe waiting to break?
Am I the shadow you catch in the corner of your eye, the flicker of movement where none should be?

Do you feel me when your fingers brush against something familiar,
only to realize it's nothing at all?
Am I the echo of laughter in an empty hallway,
the ghost of a touch that never quite lands?

Maybe we are just two specters haunting the same story,
feeling for each other in the folds of time,
never sure if the other was ever real.

#Poetry #Memory #LostConnections #Surreal #PoetryOfAbsence #EchoesOfThePast #UnfinishedStories #UnspokenWords #HauntingPresence