i leave the light on for something that has never arrived.
not out of habit, but out of hope—the kind that lingers in corners, soft and unshaken.
i imagine you in fragments. a passing reflection, a voice behind me that isn’t there, the warmth that settles beside me when the night feels too full. i do not know your name, but i know your weight in absence.
there is a quiet discipline to waiting. not desperation, not grief—just a steady hum of belief that love exists somewhere with my name written inside it.
if you ever find me, you will not have to knock. i have been open for you longer than i can remember.
xx,
Alice
