I walked the edge of night alone,
With heavy heart, like cold-cut stone.
The world grew dim without your light,
A silent cry, no will to fight.
I lost you, and with you, me,
A broken branch from a dying tree.
The colors bled, the stars grew pale,
Each breath, a weight, too sharp, too frail.
I reached for peace in a final way,
A desperate wish for skies of gray.
But in the dark, a whisper came,
“You’re still here, don’t fan the flame.”
So I stand now on trembling ground,
Still missing you, still feeling bound.
But life, though hollow, gently calls,
In whispers soft, though I still fall.
Maybe someday, I’ll find my feet,
And in my chest, a steady beat.
For now, I stumble, trying to stay,
Surviving loss, day after day.
