I still see the river when I close my eyes
laughing at nothing, hair still wet from the water
the afternoon bent like it had nowhere else to be
even the light followed you around
01 / 10
You'd just show up, no warning, no reason given —
didn't ask, you always knew before I did.
There were things I kept meaning to say out loud.
Most of them got lost on the way out.
02 / 10
I keep turning it over in the dark,
trying to find the crack where I lost you
or where you lost me.
I'm not even sure anymore.
03 / 10
But I'm not ready to call this what it is.
I've seen how you fight the things that tried to break you
and I know I got heavy, I know I pulled the sky down —
but I'm still here.
Still trying to be worth the sun you carry.
04 / 10
Every time you walked in I forgot what was heavy.
The way you moved like the room was already yours,
that slow smile before you even reached me —
I've been living in that moment ever since.
05 / 10
You were never the kind to stay where it hurts.
You took everything life threw and wore it like proof.
I'm scared I'm the one thing you'll not figure out,
and that's the knot I can't think my way out.
06 / 10
Some nights I hear it, loud and ugly —
you're losing your light
because of a dark you can't even name.
And I hate that it's not wrong.
07 / 10
I'm not ready to call this what it is.
I've seen how you fight the things that tried to break you
and I know I got heavy, I know I pulled the sky down —
but I'm still here.
Still trying to be worth the sun you carry.
08 / 10
I never needed you to fix me.
I just wanted to be the place you felt safe coming home to.
I still think I can be that.
I guess that's the only bet worth making.
09 / 10
I still see our couch when the night gets quiet —
you after dinner, not saying much,
something small curled up and breathing on you.
Even the little ones knew where home was.
That's what I know.
That's what I'm not letting go.
10 / 10