The lasagna she never finished still haunts the Tupperware
Her hair on the pillow, her scent on the robe, like she’s just le getting there
The mail still comes with her title, like the world didn’t get the news
And I water her plants like a ritual I’m too numb to refuse
I left her toothbrush in the holder, like maybe death forgot a step
But the mirror’s cold, the house too still, and silence never slept
Our pictures crack from the inside out, I swear they breathe some nights
And the ghosts that live in light switches whisper half her rights
There’s ashes in the kitchen sink, and no one cleaned the drain
Her coffee cup’s still half-full—like I’m clinging to the stain
It’s not about moving on, it’s just I don’t know how to quit
When the love of your life dies mid-sentence and you still sit in the shit
Her voicemail’s a fucking time machine, I play it just to hear her tone
And for five sweet seconds, I forget that I’m alone
But the fridge still hums, the clock still ticks, and grief don’t take a break
It just wraps around your bones like a leash you didn’t make
I scream air, God, her, then apologize like a child
But the universe don’t answer back—it just stares and lets you go wild
There’s ashes in the kitchen sink, and no one cleaned the drain
Her coffee cup’s still half-full—like I’m clinging to the stain
It’s not about moving on, it’s just I don’t know how to quit
When the love of your life dies mid-sentence and you still sit in the shit
404’s next. You know what that means: strippers,
sluts, panties, and filth. Let’s make ‘em blush.