400
Lost, But Still Here
Somewhere between who I was
and who I’m supposed to be,
I lost the map.
Every turn feels like
the wrong street,
every choice feels like
a door I shouldn’t have opened.
I replay moments like broken songs,
wondering where I went off rhythm,
wondering why I can’t seem
to get it right.
I watch the world move forward
while I stand still
smiling in photos,
breaking in silence.
People grow, people glow,
people become everything
they said they would be.
And me?
I feel like a name
written in pencil
on the edge of someone else’s story.
Sometimes I feel forgotten,
like a message left on read,
like a seat saved
for someone who never came back.
And then there are you,
my babies,
my heart walking outside my body.
I’m sorry
for the nights I cried
when you needed laughter.
I’m sorry
for the weight you never asked to carry.
I’m sorry
I couldn’t build the world
I dreamed you would live in.
I’m sorry
for the father you deserved
and the battles you saw
before you could even speak.
If I could rewrite time,
I would give you soft mornings,
steady love,
and a life untouched by hurt.
But even here
lost, tired, unsure
I am still trying.
Still waking up.
Still choosing you.
Still hoping
that one day you will see
that even when I was broken,
I was fighting
to love you the best way I knew how.
And maybe being lost
doesn’t mean I’m gone.
Maybe it just means
I’m still searching
for the way back home.
