Survivor's Guilt

living in a time without you

feels like learning how to breathe

with a punctured lung

every inhale burns

my body remembers the pain

my mind keeps denying

rationing air,

counting the seconds between breaths,

afraid if i breathe too hard

i’ll lose what little of you

i’m still holding.

the first days

weren’t filled with sadness —

just confusion

my body kept waking up

expecting good news for your return

i reached for my phone

before i remembered

about the obituary

and realize there is nothing left

to say.

time didn’t slow

like everyone promised

instead, it sped past me,

reckless,

dragging my peace along with it.

i learned quickly

grief doesn’t arrive

all at once.

it comes in waves

small enough

to survive

until suddenly

they aren’t.