Still Here
I wake with the weight again
a shadow that speaks in my own voice,
telling me there’s no point.
But I’ve learned not to argue
with ghosts who have memorized
all my soft spots.
Instead, I breathe.
Once for the past,
twice for the pain,
a third for the chance that maybe
today will hold something small and good.
And I say it
not loud, but certain:
I am still here.
I am still breathing.
This moment will not break me.
The words wrap my ribs
like a bandage,
keep my heart from falling apart
in the wind.
The shadow doesn’t vanish,
but it loosens its grip,
and that is enough
for me to take
one more step.
Copyright © Aarron Tuckett | Year Posted 2025
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