Waiting To Return

I drifted out my body, left the lights on in my chest,

soul slipped out the back door, went somewhere to rest. (“so far away…”)

Now it calls me through the silence like a voice behind a wall, (“I hear you…”)

like a name that I remember but can barely trace at all.

I move through every moment like a hall with no escape,

shadows clinging to me only ’cause they’re forced to take my shape.

Let people touch the surface but they never get inside, (“never…”)

every kiss a hollow promise, every night a place to hide. (“so empty…”)

Money keeps me busy, women warm me for a while, (“just for a while…”)

but nothing fills the vacancy behind this practiced smile.

When the noise fades out, the emptiness returns, (“it always comes back…”)

and the room inside my ribcage is a place that always burns. (“always burns…”)

But I won’t chase the darker paths that whisper in my ear, (“don’t go…”)

won’t answer when they call me, even when they sound sincere.

There are hearts still tied to mine, threads I couldn’t cut if tried, (“I know they care…”)

and I’ve stood close next to death—didn’t fear it, didn’t hide. (“I remember…”)

But I’m not done being unfinished, not done trying to grow, (“not yet…”)

I’ll follow where my soul went till it shows me where to go.

Every step it gets louder, every echo I rely on— (“lead me back…”)

I’ll return to who I am again, I won’t stay lost, I won’t stay gone. (“I won’t stay gone…”)

Some nights I turn transparent, just a window for the pain, (“I feel nothing…”)

thoughts pass through me like the weather—fog, wind, rain.

I let them drift, let them wander, ’cause to hold them makes me break, (“can’t hold it…”)

and realness feels too heavy for the shape I try to fake.

Haven’t met the girl who’s gonna rewrite all my nights, (“someday…”)

haven’t held a child of mine who’d pull my spirit back to life.

So I stay a little longer, stay unraveling but strong, (“holding on…”)

moving closer to the voice that’s been calling me so long. (“I hear you…”)

I walk beneath the quiet like it’s stitched into my skin,

every truth I never spoke keeps echoing within.

I’ve been haunted by the versions of myself I couldn’t save, (“I’m sorry…”)

carved their names into my memory like flowers on a grave.

But maybe all those shadows were just lessons in disguise,

teaching me that broken doesn’t mean I’m not alive.

And maybe all the distance is a path I had to take—

to reach the part of me that waits beyond the loss and ache. (“I’m coming back…”)

And when that voice grows clearer, when it finally meets my ear,

I’ll know the life I’m meant to live is getting closer, coming near.

I’ll follow it through shadows, through the quiet, through the ache— (“keep going…”)

till I stand where I belong, with nothing left for me to fake. (“I’m home…”)