door that still knows my name

THE DOOR THAT STILL KNOWS MY NAME : I sit where the house forgets to breathe, on a chair that remembers my weight better than the world remembers me. The door stands open, not as an invitation— but as a confession. Moonlight spills in like something that escaped heaven without permission, touching the floor softly so as not to wake my doubts. Outside, the trees hold their breath, thin arms raised, as if they once believed someone would answer them. I do not move. Some waiting becomes a posture. Some silence learns your shape. The moon looks at me the way memory does— whole, distant, and unable to come closer without breaking. If I leave, the night will keep sitting here for me. If I stay, I will grow roots made of wondering. So I remain— a small figure between what was never said and what still glows enough to hurt " _Some doors stay open not for return, but for remembrance.”_ Written By Akella Tulasi Bhavani Saraswathi ✍️