Still Here

The morning the world split open
I was buttering toast
You kissed me like any Thursday
Said thirty-six feels old

Your coffee cup by the sink
Your shoes still by the door
By noon a stranger’s voice
Said you weren’t here anymore

 They used words that didn’t fit
Sudden. Massive. Gone.
But the clock kept ticking loud
Like nothing had gone wrong

The bed is cold, but I’m still here
Your side untouched, but I’m still here
The world split in two that afternoon
But I’m still here

I don’t know how, I don’t know why
I just wake up and survive
I’m scared and breaking through the fear
But I’m still here

Your jacket held a grocery list
Milk and bananas too
“Call Anna about the trip”
You were coming home at two

I learned the language of money
Cried over unpaid bills
Watched YouTube at midnight
Trying to fix the sink myself

Grief doesn’t come like a wave
It’s an ocean without shore
But I found my feet on the kitchen floor
And I stood up once more

The house is quiet, but I’m still here
Talking to trees like you can hear
Under that crooked oak at dawn
I’m still here

I don’t feel brave, I don’t feel strong
But breathing keeps me moving on
The sun still rises every year
And I’m still here

New beginnings aren’t betrayal
They’re proof of breath in fragile lungs
I carry you in everything
But I am not undone

You loved the way I saw a room
For what it could become
So I’m learning how to see myself
The same way you once done

I planted something by the window
Watched it reach toward light
If something living can grow again
Maybe so can I

 The bed is cold, but I’m still here
Your voice still echoes in my ear
The world split open, I split too
But I grew through

I’m not just the woman who lost you
I’m not just the wreckage of that year
I’m scared, I’m scarred, I’m new
And I’m still here

Oh, I’m still here

The morning the world split open
I was buttering toast
Now I breathe into the silence
And I hold you close

I’m still here.