There is a silence in me now
Where your laughter used to live,
A quiet that does not heal,
Only echoes.
You were my beginning;
The first heartbeat I carried outside my own,
The first name I whispered into the dark
Like a prayer, like a promise.
Now I am an open room,
Walls standing but emptied out,
Windows that look backward,
Doors that don’t lead anywhere.
I walk through my days
Wearing your name like a bruise,
Your absence a second skin
That no one else can see.
They say time will soften this,
That grief will reshape itself.
But I don’t want soft.
I want you.
I want the way you said “Mom”
Like it meant everything.
I want the weight of your hug,
The way you lit up a room just by being in it.
I am still your mother,
But the world no longer knows
How much of me you held
How much you still do.
And so I carry this hollow,
Not as weakness,
But as the shape of love
That had no choice
But to break.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 10:56 PM UTC
There is a silence in me now
Where your laughter used to live,
A quiet that does not heal,
Only echoes.
You were my beginning;
The first heartbeat I carried outside my own,
The first name I whispered into the dark
Like a prayer, like a promise.
Now I am an open room,
Walls standing but emptied out,
Windows that look backward,
Doors that don’t lead anywhere.
I walk through my days
Wearing your name like a bruise,
Your absence a second skin
That no one else can see.
They say time will soften this,
That grief will reshape itself.
But I don’t want soft.
I want you.
I want the way you said “Mom”
Like it meant everything.
I want the weight of your hug,
The way you lit up a room just by being in it.
I am still your mother,
But the world no longer knows
How much of me you held
How much you still do.
And so I carry this hollow,
Not as weakness,
But as the shape of love
That had no choice
But to break.
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