The Echo in This Room

The floorboards still remember the rhythm of your step

I walk around them softly, afraid to break the spell

The coffee mug you left here is cold beside the sink

It’s been an hour, maybe two, since I watched the taillights blink

You didn't cry, I didn't beg, we spoke in monotone

Just the dull, precise exchange of two people who have known

For far too long, that this was the only place to land

The final, empty space where we finally let go of hand.

And now the silence screams louder than any fight we had

It’s a hollow, aching chamber, draped in memory, and bad

In the kind of way that settles deep beneath the skin

Just the echo of your laughter where your loving used to begin

Oh, the clock keeps spinning numbers, but the time inside is frozen

On the moment you turned your back, on the choice we had been chosen.

I’m sitting on the sofa, in the corner that was yours

I can almost feel the phantom warmth through the denim of my drawers

The scent of your old sweater, I should throw it in the wash

But the fear of losing that last trace is making me feel cross

With every single thing that breathes outside this dusty frame

How dare the world keep spinning when nothing feels the same?

I trace the water stain beside the photograph we took

That summer we believed forever was written in the book.

And now the silence screams louder than any fight we had

It’s a hollow, aching chamber, draped in memory, and bad

In the kind of way that settles deep beneath the skin

Just the echo of your laughter where your loving used to begin

Oh, the clock keeps spinning numbers, but the time inside is frozen

On the moment you turned your back, on the choice we had been chosen.

It’s not the shock that hurts me, it's the quiet, heavy peace

Of knowing all the struggling and the pain will finally cease

But when the storm has ended, and the sky is cold and clear

All that's left is the deep, dark well of all the empty years.

We built this house on promises we couldn't keep in sight

And now I’m standing in the rubble, wishing you a good-night.

I whisper your name just to hear the air move...

But the sound just hits the wall, and it doesn't approve.

Just me, and the echo...

In this room.

Is there anything else I can write for you, perhaps a different kind of song, or a poem?