O….N…E.. M...O..N…T..H

Today makes one month.

And I can easily say

it hasn’t gotten easier.

Instead of counting the days we’ve been together,

I’m counting the days we’ve been apart —

and God, that hurts in ways I can’t put into words.

Cause that’s something I thought I would never have to do.

One month of waking up

and reaching for a body that isn’t there.

One month of checking my phone

for messages you’ll never send.

One month of replaying memories

like they’re my favorite song,

even though every note feels like glass in my chest.

One month of clinging to the hope

that you might still come back.

One month of praying until my knees ache,

asking God to hand you back to me,

like a mercy I haven’t earned.

They say time heals.

But all time has done is teach me

how to cry quietly in public,

how to smile through a storm that hasn’t passed since you left,

how to swallow the lump in my throat mid-conversation,

how to fake laughter so no one asks questions,

how to scroll past your name like it doesn’t stop my heart,

how to sleep with the lights on because the dark feels lonelier now,

how to keep my hands busy so they don’t reach for you,

how to carry this heaviness like it’s a part of me,

how to live without you…

but not really live at all.

I keep waiting for the moment

when the weight in my chest lifts,

when your name stops tasting like longing,

when my hands stop aching to hold yours again.

But if this month has taught me anything,

it’s that love doesn’t just disappear —

it lingers,

it claws,

it keeps you up at night.

Whispering “what-ifs?”

into the parts of you that still believe.

Whispering “you should’ve!”

every time you try to search for peace.

Replaying every event, making up scenarios, thinking of possibilities

all in an effort to make sense of it all…

to cope.

And maybe one day,

this date will pass

and I won’t notice your absence anymore.

Maybe one day,

I’ll be able to hear your name

and not be phased by it.

Maybe one day,

I’ll be able to hear our songs

and not feel sorrow.

But today?

Today it’s loud.

Today it’s heavy.

Today marks one month

since I lost you,

and I’m still trying to figure out

how to live in a world

where you’re not mine.

~KC