callherwylder

[callherwylder]

What would it take for you not to leave?

Each moment feels borrowed,

like time slipped from some other life.

Even now, part of me knows

you are not mine to keep.

[callherwylder]

Your name carries the quiet

strength of grace—

but there is nothing quiet

in the way you take me.

You leave marks on my skin

like you’re writing your name across my body.

I’m desperate to erase them,

so you can write your name again.

[callherwylder]

You should know,

I still hear your name in places I don’t expect—

a line in a song, a stranger’s laugh,

the quiet between thoughts.

There’s so much I never said,

not out of fear, but because

it felt like closing a door

I wasn’t ready to lose.

Sometimes I speak to you in my mind,

not to bring you back,

but to touch the part of me

that once felt whole in your hands.

[callherwylder]

You’re the love I want to be in—

not just beside, but inside of,

like how light through a window

changes the shape of a room.

[callherwylder]

We keep circling the places where we stole moments,

as if the past might welcome us home.

I still feel you in the quiet parts of me,

but every path back is overgrown, and dark.

I’m not safe with the memory of you.

[callherwylder]

I never knew love could endure like this—

warmth tangled in the wreckage.

How is it you feel like home

and a house collapsing at once?

Even now, I stand in the ruins,

aching for the fire.

[callherwylder]

I wanted to give you a reason to stay.

All I did was give you someone to hate—

I’m so easy to hate.

[callherwylder]

You do not have to choose

between the burn of closeness

and the freeze of silence.

You can let them live

in the quiet chambers of your heart,

untouched but never forgotten.

Love does not always ask

for presence-

sometimes, only permission

to remain.

And that, too,

is sacred.

[callherwylder]

Every night,

your fingers find me in sleep—

like rain etching rivers

into the desert of my skin.

I wake with your name

sweet on my tongue.

[callherwylder]

I take it.

Not because I’m strong,

but because I’ve forgotten

what it feels like

to be safe.

[callherwylder]

I bolted every lock,

but you seep in like smoke—

filling parts of me

I tried to empty.

[callherwylder]

[callherwylder]

I’ll be the harbor

where your heart can rest

holding you

like the sea cradles the moon.

[callherwylder]

There’s salt in the air again,

heavy with heat and memory.

It clings to my skin

like the summers

when I was young—

when days felt endless,

and everything was waiting.

[callherwylder]

You live in the notes—

every chord a trace of you.

No song plays

without you passing through.

[callherwylder]

Do you think of me

when nothing fills the room?

Is there a pause when you walk through the door—

or have I vanished, like breath on glass?

[callherwylder]

This house is new—

Quiet, and clean.

You were never here.

No trace of your hands—

and in that absence,

I breathe.