When You Leave the Light On

You fold your coat over the back of the chair Like you’re coming home, like you still care The kettle hums, but the room stays cold Every little thing knows what we don’t say out loud There’s a crack in the wall where the silence grows I trace it slowly, just to feel close Your name still lives in the way I breathe Like a half-remembered melody I don’t ask you where you’ve been I don’t ask you to explain I’ve learned the weight of loving Is knowing what remains So I leave the light on In case you’re lost somewhere Not as a promise Just proof that I still care I won’t hold the door I won’t beg you to stay But I leave the light on At the end of the day Your shadow lingers in the morning rain On the sidewalk where we learned each other’s pain I talk to ghosts like they’re old friends They never leave, they just pretend I don’t curse the way you changed I don’t blame the time it took Some loves aren’t meant to be held They’re meant to be understood So I leave the light on In case you’re passing through Not for forgiveness Not for something new I won’t chase echoes I won’t call your name But I leave the light on All the same If you ever wonder If it still meant something Know it shaped the way I love Not broken—just becoming I leave the light on Not waiting anymore Just honoring the love That lived here before I’m not afraid of the dark now I’ve learned my own way But I leave the light on And I’m finally okay The house exhales The night moves on I turn the key The light stays on