Counting Christmas

I walk back home. The light goes cold. Your laughter gone.

The echo folds. The silence hits like breaking glass, too strong, too sharp for

me to pass. Each room still holds a piece of you, the sheets,

the air, the shadows too. I keep on searchin' for your trace

in this apartment, emptyin' out my chest. Without your eyes, I lose my

light. The path is blurred, the floor's not mine.

I try to stand, but my heart shakes. And since you

left, every breath aches. Everywhere you're not, the world turns