#stillbreathing
Am I here right now, with my head still in the clouds
and my heart learning to lift from the ground?
My tears make no sound, they fall unheard—
but they are proof I’m still alive in the quiet.
Sometimes I feel like a noun, existing in a moment,
right here, right now, while time hangs back, waiting
for me to catch up. And if I could feel my conscience,
I wonder what shape it would take. Maybe it never
left, or maybe it just got tired of yelling.
So I stand between past years, bruised but breathing,
carrying what hurt and leaving what hollowed me out.
I don’t need to be whole yet— just moving, just enough
light to say, _"Hello, January;"_ the ground is no longer
my ceiling; not to arrive early, just to keep on walking.
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
I lay there,
Face pressed into a pillow
Wet with every reason to scream.
“What did I do?”
“What did I do?”
Like a scratched record stuck
On guilt and grief and ******* helplessness.
She said she didn’t want it.
So why did she go through with it?
Why leave me behind
When I was already ruined?
I loved her.
I still do.
I saw us building things—
A life with messy mornings
And laughter so loud it cracked the ceiling.
But she’s married now.
She’s gone.
And I’m still here.
Still breathing.
Still pretending it doesn’t hurt as much as it does.
- THE END -
© 2025 June, Hasanur Rahman Shaikh.
All rights reserved.
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 8:27 AM UTC