Morning finds the cracks in lace
Turns the air to floating lacework
In the hush, the smallest things
Learn how to move without a purpose

A thin blade of light cuts through
And all the slow gray settles wake
Little sparks of drifting dust
Spin like thoughts that never break
Your jacket waits where you left it
Still holding the shape of you
As if the hallway can’t accept
That footsteps don’t come back through

They tell me, “It gets better soon”
As if the days could stitch a wound
But days just pass like trains at night
And I am changed by every light

Time is not a healer with clean hands
It’s a season turning in its own commands
Some days are soft, some days are sharp
Some days I feel you in the dark
And when the wind shifts, I shift too
Learning how to live with what is true
Not cured, not fixed, just rearranged
By weather moving through my name

This house keeps chapters everywhere
In cupboards, corners, frames and floors
A story I can’t bring myself
To shelve, to seal, to lock the door
Voices of friends ring kind and small
From phones that warm my palm
Then silence comes, and silence sits
Like a cat that won’t move on

I make tea for two by habit
Then laugh at how my hands still do
Grief is a muscle with a memory
It lifts what it once knew

Time is not a healer with clean hands
It’s a season turning in its own commands
Some days are soft, some days are sharp
Some days I feel you in the dark
And when the wind shifts, I shift too
Learning how to live with what is true
Not cured, not fixed, just rearranged
By weather moving through my name

Some nights I swear a weight descends
A gentle pressure, close and kind
A palm that isn’t anywhere
But leaves its heat behind
I turn around to prove I’m wrong
To name the creak, to blame the floor
But comfort lingers like a song
I didn’t know I still knew the words for

Maybe the world has quiet arms
That hold us when we can’t ask
Maybe love keeps finding ways
To touch without a mask

Time is not a healer with clean hands
It’s a season turning in its own commands
Some days are soft, some days are sharp
Some days I find you in my heart
And when the wind shifts, I shift too
Learning how to stand where grief walks through
Not cured, not fixed, but still alive
In empty rooms where mercy hides

Morning finds the dust again
And sets it dancing in the beam
I watch it rise, I let it fall
Like you, like me, like anything