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grief has arms
it’s an animal
it barks and howls
it clenches your heart
it squeezes. strangles.
hoofed and clawing.
catches in your throat.
uneven. unsteady. airless.
In the beginning, it was death that came between us. Loss, and what was left, for me, was survival, and how long to wait before grief begins, as if this ache was grief, or some dead language of ash-laden air.
and then there’s guilt
as if grief isn’t enough
it fills your head
between you and me
like a rusty cut
it’s a desperate grab
a soundless voice
sheets of forever dark
And later, it was death that filled my days, when only sleep could cut me loose, of regret, of words said, and those unsaid, as if time was wasted, to
confess, forgive. a kiss goodbye. grief is too sly.
to sleep
be numb
to the sting of salt
between you and me
to sleep to lose yourself
to your flesh. your heart.
from a single last word
there’s always us
written for dVerse Poet, Stages of Grief Photo by Rainhard Wiesinger on Unsplash.
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