Out of Habit

You say you're here by accident,

But you came the same old way.

You tell me you don’t miss this,

Yet you’re staying one more day.

You try to sound certain,

But your tone is soft and thin.

You say you’re breaking patterns,

But you fall right back again.

You stay out of habit—

Not because you’ve made a choice.

You stay out of habit—

Even when you lose your voice.

You say you’re letting go,

But you linger like you meant it.

Maybe you don’t love me—

But you stay out of habit.

You say you want the quiet,

But you check if I’m still near.

You claim you’re feeling nothing,

But your calm dissolves to fear.

You talk about your freedom,

But your actions hold you still.

You try to cut the moment,

But you never find the will.

You stay out of habit—

Not because you’ve made a choice.

You stay out of habit—

Even when you lose your voice.

You say you’re letting go,

But you linger like you meant it.

Maybe you don’t love me—

But you stay out of habit.

Maybe comfort feels like truth

When you don’t know what to feel.

Maybe staying keeps you steady

Even if it isn’t real.

You stay out of habit—

Like you’re tracing what you knew.

You stay out of habit—

Though you swear you’re passing through.

You walk toward the doorway,

But you never commit to quit.

Maybe we’re not chosen—

We just stay out of habit.