A Love Story Told In Reverse
I feel your touch even now
God knows I’m missing you.
You were my everything,
and look at what that’s done to me.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
Break me? I would’ve died for you.
Cried for you.
Run into a burning building
just to drag your name out of the fire.
My mind won’t let you go.
You echo there, uninvited.
Why?
Somebody tell me why.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
We all long for the same things
a hand to hold,
a place to rest,
someone who makes us feel safe.
Some live in that warmth daily.
Others, like me, only hold it briefly
before it slips through their fingers.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
In the time now gone,
I wonder if your heart ever chose me
in this life or the next.
If you banished me to hell,
I’d still leave a piece of my heart
buried in the snow behind you.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
Do you ever miss my touch,
my scent,
the way I held you
as if the whole world paused just for us?
Do you look at him
with the eyes that once saw me?
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
Even when I feel like I’m not enough,
still I rise.
Still I stand.
The road wounds me,
the arrival will test me,
and pain has become part of the journey.
Destinations slip from my grasp,
but I walk toward them anyway
ready to shout to the world when I arrive.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
I closed my heart many times,
yet I heard yours beating inside mine
echoes of when we were deep,
when I held you for the first
and the last time.
And then you erased me from your body
with another man,
carving a fresh lesson into my ribs
what it means to love,
what it costs to lose.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
I was built through suffering,
watching love evaporate
in the spaces between our words.
Trying to be strong,
feeling everything,
becoming whatever survival demanded.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
But still
I will not bow to despair,
nor sickness,
nor the weight of this world.
Heat cannot weaken me,
cold cannot claim me.
Nothing will beat me.
I will keep fighting,
keep trying,
and if I have enough,
I will pour my water
for another soul in the desert.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
May this generation know
deep in their bones
that struggle forged us,
faith carried us,
and the limits placed on us
were never real.
We are limitless.
And still, I rise toward what was lost.
