Some days I stand at your grave,
And others I just want to crawl into it with you.
I feel like your death killed a little of me, too.

There are parts of me that the breath has been choked out of.
Others where the color in my skin has gone pale.
There are parts of me that have obituaries detailing their demise.

The life was taken out of you,
And in a way, it felt like the life was taken out of me too.
I’m still trying to find a way out of this grave I call a body.

I stare at the grave that holds your body.

And all I can think is “Man, this is killing me.”

But one day,
I will find a way out of this self-holding grave.
I will find a shred of life.

And then,
With all the life I can muster up,
I will live for you.