Salt Inside

I wanted to tell the story of an entire life without explaining much of it. Just a house, the things people leave behind, the ships that keep departing, and the strange realization that you're slowly becoming your parents. It's about how time changes everything around us, while certain forms of love somehow remain standing.

The house filled up with weather Salt sleeping in the curtains Coffee gone cold by the sink Morning already tired Your jacket still by the doorway Rain drying off in the hallway We talked in low voices at night Like something fragile was sleeping Every winter the ships kept leaving White against the harbor light We waved from the kitchen window Like it could still change something Years moved quietly around us Paint cracked near the staircase Photographs fading in drawers The chairs kept everybody’s shape Now the house answers softer Now the heart wants smaller things A lamp left on in the hallway Footsteps stopping at the door Funny becoming your father Funny sleeping with the hallway light Funny how love stays standing After everything around it falls Water stains above the bedroom A child’s name under the table Receipts folded in winter coats Rings still lost inside the drawer Outside, the ferry moves through darkness Slow enough to hear the engines Nobody speaking downstairs Only the television glow Now the shore Now the storm Now the ferry sounding its horn Now the glass Now the rain Somebody calling your name Young enough to leave Old enough to know why Standing in the kitchen light Watching one more ship disappear And the sea And the sound And the silence after everything