The house is quiet now, the echo of the door still rings Your footsteps down the hall, the last of everything I sit in the living room where the light is turning low The furniture remembers where we used to go The silence has a weight that presses on my chest A heaviness that's gentle but refuses to let rest I breathe it in and feel it settle in my bones A quiet kind of pressure that finally feels like home After the weight settles Soft lies in the calm that follows the storm Hard goodbyes in the shape the silence forms After the weight settles Everything is still, but nothing is the same The air is thick with what we couldn't name I walk through empty rooms, touch the places you would stand The coffee cup you left, the imprint of your hand The clock keeps moving forward, but time has lost its pace A slow deceleration in this unfamiliar space I lie down in the bed where your side is cold and wide The sheets still hold the outline of the nights we tried The weight is not the leaving, it's the staying that's the cost The gravity of absence when the fight is lost After the weight settles Soft lies in the calm that follows the storm Hard goodbyes in the shape the silence forms After the weight settles Everything is still, but nothing is the same The air is thick with what we couldn't name Morning comes too softly, light creeping through the blinds I open my eyes slowly to the life I left behind The weight is still there waiting, patient as the dawn A gentle kind of anchor now that you are gone