The Empty Chair
There is a space
that still feels occupied.
Not physically.
Not visibly.
But in the way your body
still makes room for someone
who is no longer there.
You don’t always notice it.
It shows up
in small adjustments.
In pauses.
In things you almost say.
In the way you still turn
slightly toward absence.
Nothing dramatic remains.
No clear ending.
Just a quiet shape
that hasn’t been filled
by anything else.
People think emptiness
is loud.
But this isn’t.
It’s precise.
Specific.
Familiar.
The chair is empty.
But something in you
hasn’t moved.
Not because you’re stuck.
Not because you’re waiting.
But because
some parts of us
don’t relocate
at the same speed as truth.
There is no instruction here.
Only this:
You can leave it empty
without erasing
what once sat there.
[Verse 1]
You still turn
like someone’s there
You leave space
in that chair
Not on purpose
you don’t see
How your body
remembers quietly
[Verse 2]
You almost speak
you almost say
Then something stops
and slips away
[Chorus]
You can leave
that chair like that
You don’t need
to fill it back
You don’t erase
what once was there
You just learn
to live with the empty chair
[Hook]
Oooh
I still feel you there
Oooh
I still feel you there
[Verse 3]
You don’t notice
when it starts
It shows up more
in smaller parts
In how you pause
in how you lean
In all the spaces
in between
[Chorus]
You can leave
that chair like that
You don’t need
to fill it back
You don’t erase
what once was there
You just learn
to live with the empty chair
[Hook]
Oooh
I still feel you there
Oooh
I still feel you there
[Outro]
I still feel