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My Grief poem in its latest incarnation.
Grief is;
the last embrace
the final breath.
Grief is;
the last light in the eyes,
the fading warmth in bed.
Grief is;
the last thing
the final companion.
Grief is;
before darkness,
before nothing.
I have to get out of this; stop wallowing.
I need to stop talking about it with you because i fear it's become self indulgent. This is what i'm saying here; why we hold onto grief, because grief is still a connection. One more line.."Grief is the fingers trailing across the closed casket."
Grief is;
the last embrace
the final breath.
Grief is;
the last light in the eyes,
the fading warmth in bed.
Grief is;
the last thing
the final companion.
Grief is;
before darkness,
before nothing.
I have to get out of this; stop wallowing.
I need to stop talking about it with you because i fear it's become self indulgent. This is what i'm saying here; why we hold onto grief, because grief is still a connection. One more line.."Grief is the fingers trailing across the closed casket."
From:
no subject
I don't really understand what's wallowing or self-indulgent about it. If you want to talk about it here I'm always listening. Maybe you overestimate how much you've actually said. Sadness and grief, it's real, and no matter how you walk with it, or at what pace, it changes you in some way.
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no subject
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If you start flagging down passersby to tell them your problems, then, ok, stop.
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But THANK YOU for your generosity.