Lately, it's been memories
and sleepless nights.
My bed, our bed,
these sheets still smell like you.
I swear I hear your voice
echoing through the walls
at three in the morning, and
I'm awake for another sleepless
night.
I almost called you,
but I convinced myself not to.
Sometimes I have to remind
myself to breathe.
"Just breathe."

I have to remind myself that
the world isn't over, and that
my shoulders have carried far more
weight than that of the pain you
have caused me.
I can heal.
I need to remember that
yesterday is gone; it no longer
exists. I can't keep dwelling on
a past that doesn't
dwell on me.
I can do this.