On Grief
It never leaves.
Suffocating perfume dreams; yearning, vivid. The barren gray morning.
Sometimes solace in family, friends. More often visions (of neighbors, strangers) of how they’ve lost, or how they will. And yet we live.
It never leaves.
Suffocating perfume dreams; yearning, vivid. The barren gray morning.
Sometimes solace in family, friends. More often visions (of neighbors, strangers) of how they’ve lost, or how they will. And yet we live.