No one teaches you how to grieve the life you thought you'd have.
How to carry versions of yourself that never made it.

How to smile with cracked teeth
or love with a heart that flinches.

They don't teach you that bravery
is sometimes just making it to next week.
That healing isn't pretty-
it's messy, loud, and sometimes lonely.

But you learn.
You learn to sit with the silence.
To keep living like maybe
the best part hasn't happened yet.