through the smoke

Through the gunfire and the smoke, I’m still on my knees reaching for you— even though I know your hand will never reach back. I stay strong for our daughter, hold myself together for her light, but when the veil of night falls, my stomach empties, my heart drops, and the tears rise like tides I can’t hold back. Still, I reach— for you, for the echo of what we were, for the shadows of two other ghosts I’ve never fully let go. Maybe that’s why I never heal: because my hands keep grasping for what was never meant to stay.