I found the drawer where I kept the reasons counted them out by the change of seasons some were receipts, some were photographs some were the math of my aftermath the body that held me when I was breaking the voice on the line that was worth the waiting I don't say surviving like it was grace I say I was slower than leaving the place and the weight doesn't lift, it just redistributes and the wound doesn't close, it just acquits itself I'm still here, not healed — still turning the same slow corner, still carrying what I could not kill, still here I learned that the worst doesn't come in a wave it comes in the language of Tuesday, of laundry, of crave of craving a version of life I was sold before I knew warm could exist with the cold I've been at the edge of the edge of the frame I've called it by weather, by distance, by name I've bargained with silence and silence agreed to give me just one more degree and the weight doesn't lift, it just redistributes and the wound doesn't close, it just acquits itself I'm still here, not healed — still turning the same slow corner, still carrying what I could not kill, still here I don't want to lie to you the way the anthems do with the key change and the choir and the breaking through I'm not through I'm just in it different than I was before I've stopped asking the door to be more than a door some days the evidence for staying is thin some days it's just: I already began and the begun deserves its end still here (not fixed) still here (not finished) still here (not asking anymore what for) still here still
