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A recorded reading of “No Pulse for Goodbye”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
You didn’t say goodbye. You just vanished. Like a whisper I almost heard but not loud enough to hold. I kept checking the door. Not because I thought you’d come back— but because the air still moved like you might. There’s a certain silence that feels louder than heartbreak. Like the absence is alive. Like your ghost has better things to do than haunt me properly. I still talk to the space you left. I ask it questions you never answered. I fill it with excuses because that hurts less than admitting you meant to leave. There’s no pulse to this ending. No break. No scream. Just a flatline dressed in quiet and stitched with maybe’s. They say grief comes in waves. But mine came in pauses. In rooms you don’t walk through anymore. In coffee cups meant for two. In songs that skip just before the chorus because you ruined them by being real. You didn’t say goodbye. So I never got to forget you. You’re still somewhere between yesterday and not quite dead.
Lyrics
You didn’t say it, didn’t need to Just left the door, then left me too I checked the halls, I begged the air But nothing’s there, and you’re not there No fight, no scream Just silence thick And hearts that never learned the trick No pulse for goodbye, no final scene Just cold air where love had been You vanished soft, like breath in frost But I still feel the shape I lost The quiet hums where we once spoke Our names now ash, the vows we broke Your ghost still sleeps inside my bed Where nothing lives but what you said (Still here...) (Still gone...) (Still gone...) Still you. No pulse for goodbye, no real end Just empty space I still pretend You might return to fill again But all I hold’s the silent bend
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