Half-Asleep In Your Hoodie

Coffee’s cold

On your side of the table

There’s a dent in the couch

Where you used to stay up, unstable

Phone turned down

Face flat on the carpet

Every unread message

Feels like a target

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Breathing in what’s left of you

Talk to the ceiling, say I’m fine

But every crack knows that’s untrue

If letting go is growing up

Why do I feel small as I do?

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Still making room for you

Your friends write

Ask if I’m still “holding together”

I type “yeah, I’m okay”

Then stare out the window at weather

Your playlist

Keeps crashing into my silence

Every chorus you loved

Feels like re-ignited violence

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Breathing in what’s left of you

Talk to the ceiling, say I’m fine

But every crack knows that’s untrue

If letting go is growing up

Why do I feel small as I do?

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Still making room for you

Maybe someday

I fold this thing, give it away (oh)

But my hands keep shaking

Like they’re asking you to stay

So I leave it on the chair

Like you just stepped out for air

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Breathing in what’s left of you

Calling your name into the dark

Like somehow it’s pulling you through

If letting go is growing up

Why do I feel lost without a clue?

I’m half-asleep in your hoodie

Still making room for you