Gathering Pieces

Lying in bed, three days lost in thought, Not replaying laughter replaying what I forgot. The sound of your keys. The door closing soft. The last time I saw you alive, and I was too high to watch. Reaching through the haze, but you're already gone, All I find is empty air and the weight of what I've done. Maybe at dawn I'll find my way back home, But right now I'm just gathering pieces, and I'm doing it alone. I told you I was broken; you said "me too, baby, me too," We'd get high together, like that's what broken people do. That night you took the pills I should've stopped you, but I didn't. You drove into the dark, and I've been living in it since. Reaching through the haze, but you're already gone, All I find is empty air and the weight of what I've done. Maybe at dawn I'll find my way back home, But right now, I'm just gathering pieces, and I'm doing it alone. Is the light ahead salvation, or just another crash? You fell asleep behind the wheel I'm the one who has to last. Fighting battles in my head that no one else can see, The cost of being the one left alive when you were supposed to be with me. Three months sober now ninety-two days clean, Counting stones like ledges, wondering what it means. Was any of it real, or just two people drowning slow? Questions don't have answers, but I'm learning how to let them go. Lying here in silence, trying to stitch the seams, Finding light in small things coffee, air, the spaces in between. Maybe one day I'll rebuild something from this wreck, But today I'm just surviving and I guess that's what comes next.