You can’t fix it.
Loss isn’t pretty. Be kind to everyone.
You don’t have to fix it, just hold me for a while, hold up my tired bones and take the weight off my feet.
The sorrow has sunk into the marrow drilling wormholes through the meat, down through what made me strong, through the essence of me. My frame bends with the wind now, folding over in the storm, like a monsoon sapling being tested and torn.
You dont have to fix it, just listen for a while, not many care to hear the truth, it smells of vinegar and bile. It’s nothing gentle or sunny, there’s nothing flickering in the dark, only the godforsaken sight of a monster who can visit in the night, for the good and the bad, taking all that I had, and leaving a nightmare to wake up to every morning.
Grief erodes your spirit, the heart aches and your smile is fake most all the time. You forget everything but pain, haven’t felt good in so long, and I haven’t dared try. It’s the new normal you heard about without the silver lining.
You don’t have to fix it, just help me dig the hole. The place where all I ever wanted goes. The place where all I lived for is stowed away from today so I can go to work, smile when it’s needed, tend to my responsibilities.
Pull the cover of numbness over my head, I’m alive and I’m dead.
This is grief.
You can’t fix it.
Just hold me for a while.
