Pieces lost

She’s not the only reason I smile, but she is the reason I can. I was left to stumble all the while— she took and held my hand.

She found the pieces of me I hadn’t known I lost, the ones that fled when the world turned hard and covered itself in frost.

Why then must that same world leave her wane—crushed, torn, and tossed? The bruises and scars unseen, quietly worn.

Yet even in her silence,

there’s a strength that hums beneath the hurt—

a pulse that refuses to fade.

I watch her rebuild the light,

one breath, one laugh, one morning at a time.