The Vanishing Act

I woke up in a room that knew my name.
But the walls just stared like strangers,
There are pictures on my phone of a life I lived.
Every laugh is just a sound I used to know,
But I can’t place where it belongs.
And I’m trying to sing along to a song I wrote,
But the words all come out wrong.

I swear there used to be someone here,
A memory shaped like a friend.
But the outlines smear like wet ink
Every time I try to hold them again.

I keep thinking,
“I used to know someone who meant a lot to me,”
and I hate that I can’t finish the thought.

I’m losing pieces of myself one at a time,
I try saying your name out loud
and it catches in my throat,
like a word I learned once.
If tomorrow I look at you
and my face doesn’t light up the way it should,
please know I didn’t choose that.
It’s just getting harder to stay whole
when everything keeps slipping.

If I fade slowly,
please stay loud.
Tell the stories I can’t keep.
Say my name even when I don’t answer.
And if one day I walk past you
like we never shared a life,
just know I’m still trying
to hold onto whatever’s left.

I’m losing pieces of myself one at a time,
and I’m scared of who I’ll be
when the last one falls.
But if I forget you tomorrow,
I hope you remember me enough
for both of us.

Pop punk, emo, emotional vocals, piano, male