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what we leave behind.

you stayed. not everyone does.

Have you ever wanted to be remembered by someone you've already forgotten?

There are rooms inside us that we sealed shut years ago. Not because they were empty — because they were too full. Every person you've ever loved left a fingerprint on the glass, and you've been breathing fog onto it ever since, trying to see clearly.

Do you hear it — the quiet between two thoughts where you almost remember who you were?

Forgetting is not the opposite of memory. It is memory's shadow, cast longer as the light moves on. We don't lose people. We absorb them until we can no longer tell where they end and we begin.

there is nothing here

you found a room that doesn't exist.
congratulations, or condolences —
it depends on what you were looking for.

fragments
the smell of rain
on warm concrete
a door closing
for the last time
the frequency
of an old laugh
three words
you never said
light through
a window at 4am
a song that plays
in an empty room
the space
where a photo was
half a conversation
still echoing
a name written
in condensation
séance
speak to the ghost. it may answer.
◌ you found me. not everyone does.
...

leave something behind.