There’s a silence here that knows my name. I feel it settling inside my ribs, like it’s been waiting for me to break. I trace the dust on the frames of old sins—portraits of who I used to be watching me return to the place I said I’d never bleed in again. And the house exhales through the floorboards, a low, familiar ache. It almost sounds like mercy. murmured sighs: mmm… ahh… There’s a mirror in the hall that remembers my face better than I do. It follows my trembling, echoes every pulse, as if it wants to wear my skin to feel alive again. you’re hollow now… you’re hollow enough… And I feel it— that old hunger, the one that drags me back to every room I tried to bury. My heartbeat stumbles into the dark and the dark stumbles back. The walls keep breathing through the cracks in my faith, pulling all my reasons out one by one. And I swear this place knows the shape of my shame— it holds me tighter than love ever did. stay… stay… If I disappear tonight, let it be in your arms, oh ruin of mine. I’ve given this house every part of me— the rest was never mine to keep. you’re home… you’re home… you’re home… The staircase hums my heartbeat out of rhythm. The shadows gather like worshipers—like they’ve waited centuries for my quiet surrender. Tell the world I knelt before something that finally saw me. ahh—ahh—AHH— (fading) you were ours… long before you came home…
