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Everywhere with You
I hear your name when the house goes dark,
Like a song I didn’t know I still remembered.
You catch me off guard on an ordinary Sunday,
And I’m left standing there, not knowing what to do with it.
I catch glimpses of you in the crowd—
A ripped pair of jeans, an empty parking lot, the way someone turns their head.
The world keeps spinning toward tomorrow,
But a piece of me stays stubborn in the past.
You slide into the void between my thoughts,
Hiding in old playlists and familiar street corners.
Sometimes it makes me smile.
Sometimes I just hold my breath, trying to keep you close.
You aren’t here, not really.
But you’re in the fading light of the stratus sky,
In the smell of 1 AM drizzle, on every foggy, linear highway.
And just like that, I’m right back where we left off.
I still know this ineffable feeling by heart—
The quiet truth that a piece of me never found its way home.
