凌晨三點的未接來電

你的呼吸還纏在我頸邊

香水味在枕頭腐爛成繭

我把自己關進你離開的雨天

鏡子里面全是你側臉

煙灰缸盛滿道歉

你走后每個房間都鬧鬼

我自愿被囚禁在回憶的碎片

Haunt me, haunt me

像幽靈重復每一夜

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Haunt me in the hush between heartbeats,

whisper through the cracked glass of midnight.

I wear your ghost like frost on my sleeves—

every breath a white flag, every echo a bruise.

Trace the scar of your name across the moon;

let it linger, silver and serrated, in my throat.

I’ll keep the porch light burning for a shadow

that never steps home, let the clock unwind

its cruel hands around the syllable of “stay.”

If love is a grave, I’ll lie down softly,

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I’m dying to know

if the static in your chest still spells my name

when the city lights go off like a siren through your veins.

I trace our ghost in ceiling cracks,

whisper questions to the smoke—

did the echo ever learn to breathe

or just fade like every promise we broke?

Your silence is a loaded room;

I keep knocking on the dark,

dying to know if you’re dying too

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