The Room Keeps Your Shape

The chair in the corner still holds your weight Long after you've stood up and walked away The floor by the window has worn to your walk The whole room quietly learned the shape of how you talk

The room keeps your shape, even once you've gone The house remembers longer than any song Just the dent, just the wear, plainer than your face or name Just the specific quiet way you used to sit there

Every person who's ever lived left this kind of mark Smaller than a monument, quieter than a name carved into stone Just a worn stair tread, a favorite mug's chip A garden that still blooms the way you planned it

The room keeps your shape, even once you've gone The house remembers longer than any song This is most of what a life actually leaves behind Small physical proof that you were here, not a grand design

We build pyramids and statues hoping to be remembered whole But most of what outlives a person is smaller than a name or a role A recipe still cooked the way you always cooked it A joke still told the way you always told it

The room keeps your shape, even once you've gone The house remembers longer than any song This isn't a sad thought, dressed up to look brave It's just an honest measure of what a whole life gave

You don't need a monument to have mattered here The dent in the chair says you mattered, plain and clear Somebody sat there, somebody left their trace Somebody's shape is still pressed into this exact place

The room keeps your shape, even once you've gone The house remembers longer than any song So live in a way that leaves a good dent in the world A worn path someone else is glad was there, a room made warmer, a story unfurled