I sit with it.
That is the first truth.

Heartbreak does not arrive loudly
it settles,
like weight in the chest,
like gravity pulling the eyes downward
again
and again.

I fold into myself,
not to disappear,
but to listen.

Somewhere between the bow of my head
and the lift of my breath
there is a negotiation taking place.

Grief says: Stay.
Acceptance says: Stand.

They speak over one another.
They interrupt.
They take turns.

I am not healed here.
I am not undone either.

I am practicing the courage
of remaining present
inside a body that remembers pain
and still chooses to exist.

There are moments when the heart cracks open
and moments when the hands learn
how to hold it gently.

This is not a resolution.
This is a coexistence.

And in that quiet tension,
I am still here.