Where My Heart Used to Be

 

Where My Heart Used to Be

They say grief comes in waves,

but no one tells you the size,

how a calm sea can suddenly rise

and darken the skies.

They say grief comes in waves,

crashing into you like a tsunami tide,

dragging away everything you knew,

everything safe,

everything that survived.

One moment I'm standing,

holding myself together somehow,

the next I'm drowning in memories,

asking, "What do I do now?"

Each wave finds me unexpectedly—

while making tea,

while folding clothes,

while passing a place we used to go.

And yes,

you can brush your teeth whilst sobbing.

You can answer questions whilst breaking.

You can smile at the world

while your soul is quietly shaking.

It's exhausting.

Deep-down,

bone-aching,

spirit-breaking exhausting.

The kind that sleep cannot cure,

because sleep itself has become a thief;

bringing me dreams of my David,

then waking me back to grief.

Every part of me is yearning for him.

Every heartbeat calls his name.

Every sunrise feels the same.

Every tomorrow arrives unchanged,

yet nothing in my world remains.

My heart is not broken.

Broken things can still be found.

My heart is gone.

It left with him.

People tell me time will heal.

That one day this pain won't feel so real.

But how do I heal

when healing means moving on?

How do I rebuild

when the reason I built is gone?

I never believed in soul mates

or some kind of loving pact,

but now I realise i'm nothing

without my Man of Wax. 

I don't want another story.

I don't want another plan.

I want the life we dreamed together.

I want my husband.

I want my man.

I miss his laughter,

loud and free.

The way his joy

would spill into me.

I miss his hand reaching for mine,

those ordinary moments

that now feel divine.

I miss his singing,

softly in my ear.

The silly things he'd say,

the things only he could make dear.

I miss the man

who made a house a home,

who somehow made me feel

I was never alone.

Now every room echoes.

Every silence speaks.

Every day feels longer

than any week.

I move through life like a shadow,

through gardens I no longer see,

trying to paint pictures for the man

who was everything to me.

Sometimes I talk to him.

Sometimes I pray.

Sometimes I beg the night

not to take my dreams away.

Because in dreams he still exists.

In dreams he still comes near.

In dreams I can still find

the man I lost is here.

Then morning arrives,

merciless and cold,

reminding me again

of the story I've been told.

That he is gone.

That I remain.

That love survives,

but so does pain.

And I am frightened.

Frightened of futures I cannot see.

Frightened of becoming someone

I never wanted to be.

Frightened of carrying this emptiness

year after year,

when the one person who made me brave

is no longer here.

So I breathe.

Though some days it hurts.

I rise.

Though my heart still deserts me.

I carry his love

through every tear that falls.

And though I cannot see the road ahead,

I carry him still.

In the spaces between heartbeats.

In the silence.

In the walls.

And if love truly leaves an imprint

that time can never sever,

then somewhere inside this shattered soul,

my David lives forever.