Grief Walked In
A Poem
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“Lady Grief” walked in—
tears streaming down
her sunken, exhausted face.
My windows grow foggy
as mist rolls in,
covering all the things I enjoyed—
all the things I used to chase
with passion.
I just keep thinking it isn’t real.
I just can’t grasp that he’s GONE.
Regrets in my head
getting too loud.
She sits on
my black sofa chair,
mumbling to herself,
reminding me of all the times
I didn’t give him that one bone,
every time
I forgot to fill his water bowl
before school,
every time
I didn’t follow directions
to care for him.
I keep fighting to hear the same
pitter-patter of paws
on the wooden tile each morning.
BUT ALL I HEAR IS SILENCE.
Her jet-black dress,
pale blue eyes,
pale skin,
black matted hair—
forming into the worn
sofa chair,
knowing that she’ll forever live there,
forever mumbling,
forever having tears
tumble down her face,
down her dress,
creeping into the
cramped—
black heels
that seem to fit a little too tight
around her
bruised ankles.
I keep calling his name to eat,
but he doesn’t skitter around that corner
with his tongue out of his mouth..
THEN I REMEMBER HE'S NOT HERE.
It’s written in the lines of memory—
every time I refused
to take him for a walk
because I didn’t want
to get out of bed.
He was just here.
He WAS JUST here.
HE WAS JUST HERE.
Written in lines—
where she clutches
the once
lively—colorful journal,
now tear-stained,
and regrets filling the pages—all intertwined
like
the black mascara
that runs down like sorrow—
just hitting her chin
before she wipes it away—
still leaving stains,
like the memories
of his presence,
of his life
that was so energetic,
so lively,
now missing
from that bed in the corner.
I should’ve walked him MORE.
I should’ve given him EVERYTHING.
Maybe if I had loved better—
he’d STILL be here.
It isn’t MY fault.
But why do I FEEL this way?
It’s written in the lines—forever.
She still calls his name
but cries more,
realizing
he is not coming
through the front door,
that his tongue
no longer hangs out of his mouth
as he trots over—
his presence each day—
she realizes
is no more.
TOBY!” she calls,
waiting… Hoping…
her voice echoing
down the empty halls.
…NOTHING.
Then something clicks—
She curls in tight,
sobbing,
clutching the sofa
like it might
keep her from slipping
beneath the weight
of this endless night.
She bites her lip
that won’t stop trembling—
biting hard enough
to hold back the scream
clawing up
from somewhere deep.
She calls again:
“Toby!”
“TOBY!?”
“TOOOOBBBYYYYY!?”
Her voice cracks—
but the bed stays still,
the floor doesn’t creak,
no paws patter,
no tags clink,
Just… stillness.
Except for her sobs,
shallow, breaking,
and the soft thud
of the tear-soaked journal
as it slips from her lap
and thuds to the floor.
I sit,
wondering
if I invited her—
if she knew
before I did.
I thought she came
to help me heal...
But I was wrong.
I’m lost
in the infinite absence.
Tears fall like rain—
a teal cascading waterfall
Once she walked in,
I could never forgive myself.
There’s no way
she could be tamed.
She DOESN'T leave.
She wanders the house clutching that notebook like a life line— refusing to let others see what turmoil’s inside her.
She DOESN'T sleep.
She looks out the window at the foggy night sky, sitting into her worn chair, oversized black pajamas hanging over her loose—tired form.
She WATCHES me breathe—
and reminds me
he’ll NEVER breathe again.
It’s written in the lines—of the sofa.
—I also have to try to tame
“Lady Grief,”
as she still sits in that black sofa chair,
crying—
clutching onto that notebook,
adding a new weight.
That notebook she carries—
getting heavier by the day.
Adding to the loss
that took us both,
tearing us both apart.
Some days I don’t know
if it’s HER crying—
or me….
Our pain radiates together,
forever trapped in the ACHE.
Now I’m responsible
for taming her cries,
for erasing a line
each day,
for forgiving mistakes
that still
are confined
in my brain
and in hers like a cage.
But what if I DON'T want to HEAL?
What if healing MEANS forgetting?
I DON'T want to FORGET.
“Lady Grief” walked in—
Now we’re both here.
—I become responsible
to fight
for his remembrance,
for the day
“Lady Grief” walked in.
I just miss him
so incredibly much.
All I can do
is clutch—
onto the LOVE of him
that I have
ENGRAVED in my veins.
I have to fight to remember—
Forgetting means LOSING HIM TWICE.