Cracked Sidewalks

The sidewalk's cracked, you know?
Right outside my door.
Like a map of my heart,
Since you aren't here anymore.

Remember how we used to walk,
Holding hands so tight?
Tripping over those same cracks,
Bathed in the summer light.

You'd laugh, that open, honest sound,
And pull me close again.
Now the silence screams your absence,
A never-ending pain.

The roses you planted are blooming,
Red, vibrant, and bold.
A cruel reminder of beauty,
A story left untold.

I water them, like you asked,
Though my hands tremble and shake.
Each drop a tear I can't contain,
A promise I can't break.

The mail still comes addressed to you,
Junk mostly, or bills overdue.
A hollow echo of a life,
Now fractured, and untrue.

I try to fill the empty space,
With hobbies, friends, and work.
But your ghost is in every corner,
A constant, lurking perk…

Perk of grief, a twisted thing,
To feel you everywhere.
In the warmth of the morning sun,
In the crispness of the air.

The cracked sidewalk mocks my hope,
A permanent, jagged line.
Dividing then from what is now,
A future that isn't mine.

Or is it? Maybe someday,
I'll walk this path anew.
Not forgetting, but accepting,
The life that's waiting, true.

Maybe the cracks are just a test,
Of resilience, strength, and grace.
To find my footing in the world,
And find my own damn space.

I pick a weed from between the stones,
Its roots clinging to the earth.
A symbol of survival, maybe,
A quiet, stubborn worth.

I'll keep watering the roses,
And try to find my way.
Along these cracked sidewalks,
Toward a brighter, brand new day.

It won't be easy, I know that now,
But living means to try.
To mend the cracks within myself,
And learn how to fly.

So I step outside, take a breath,
And face the morning light.
The sidewalk's still cracked, but so am I,
And maybe that's alright.

Because even broken things can heal,
And find their strength within.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll laugh again,
And let the healing begin.