The Ash I Breath

You left without a sound, not even smoke

Just a silence wide enough to choke

I stitched the wound, I cleaned the blade

Told myself I wouldn’t fade

They say you vanished for my sake

But love don’t leave and call it grace

You were fire once, then gone like steam

Now I wake with ghosts inside my seams

But I still walk, I still heal

I still grind the gears and feel

Your name caught in the copper air

Your shadow sitting in my chair

And if you ever think of me

Think of the woman you let bleed

But wouldn’t die—

Just burned, and stayed

In the ash I breathe

The clinic hums, the city groans

I stitch their wounds and mend their bones

But mine don’t close, not where you tore

The part of me you never mourned

I don’t cry where they can see

But some nights, you still kneel in me

Not a prayer—

Not a sin—

Just the space you used to live in

But I still walk, I still heal

I still grind the gears and feel

Your name caught in the copper air

Your shadow sitting in my chair

And if you ever think of me

Think of the woman you let bleed

But wouldn’t die—

Just burned, and stayed

In the ash I breathe

So come back or don’t

Break me or don’t

But I won’t wait where the fire won’t grow

I’ve got hands, I’ve got steel

And I’ve got work that makes me real

Even if the wound stays deep—

I’ll walk through smoke

On my own two feet.