sublet

you’re here
but your bags are still zipped
your shoes face the door
you say “I’m staying,”
but your presence feels
like a question
i haven’t earned the answer to

i rearranged my heart
so you’d have space
moved my grief to the attic
folded my fears and placed them into drawers
burned the sheets
that smelled like someone else's name

i lit incense in every room
so the past would leave
quietly

and still
you keep your coat on
still glance at the window
like it’s whispering
your real intentions

i ask if you’re okay,
you say “I’m just tired.”
but you’ve been tired since the day you arrived
tired
like someone still looking
for the house they meant to find.

love,
i made this place sacred
bleached the old sins
swept doubt under the rug
even bought new light
so the shadows wouldn’t remind you
of what you lost

but you walk around
like you’re waiting
for a better offer
you sleep on one side of the bed
and leave the other
cold
and questioning

and I,
the foolish landlord of my own body,
keep lowering the rent,
hoping you'll unpack,
hoping you'll hang something
on these bare walls
besides silence

but maybe
you were never moving in
maybe you just needed
a place to rest
until the next ride called
your name