Struck Hard

The air between us has grown heavy, a static charge that never breaks. It’s the weight of a ghost you’re still trying to name, standing right between where we used to meet.
Here is a reflection of that tug-of-war between the heart and the history you’re still untangling.
The Ghost in the Room
You look at me, but your eyes are shifting gears,
Reaching for a memory that died a thousand years.
I am standing in the sunlight, solid and true,
But you’re chasing shadows that don’t belong to you.
The Heartache
It’s the quiet way you pull your hand away,
The things you’re terrified to finally say.
I’m building a house on a foundation of sand,
Watching the blueprints slip right through your hand.
How do I compete with a version of the past?
A story you’ve written that was never meant to last.
The Anger
Then the heat rises, a bitter, sudden spark,
Because I’m tired of being the light in your dark
While you keep the embers of her fire fed.
I shouldn't have to fight the voices in your head.
My love isn't a bandage for a wound you won't close,
Or a secondary path that you reluctantly chose.
The Crossroads
You’re a man divided, a map torn in two,
And I’m losing the version I thought I knew.
Decide if you’re staying or if you’re still gone,
Because I can’t keep waiting for your version of dawn