I stumble through the door. Hear the humming of a lullaby coming from the kitchen. Settle down. Float away in the night like a ghost that can’t leave. Sit near a gravestone. The ground will settle beneath you whether you call it home or not. You get shoved to corners of your own mind like dust and you finally feel harmless. The nighttime takes you like a thief. Nothing matters like how it used to. What do you think is going right? Grief shape shifts into many things and I stopped trying to figure out it’s true form long ago. Maybe a part of it lives within me- how can it not? I’m starting to call the days as I see them, I leave little room for excitement and that’s okay too. The good fight plays through my mind like a time reel and sometimes it’s all I see. And I swear I still taste the smoke in the air and hear my heart rattle behind my rib cage. But, these days, I walk towards peace any chance I get. My limbs weak and shaking. I stumble right through that door. -AMT ©️