Grief begins to clump,
In the shallows of my stomach,
Clay settles, builds, hardens
How can one be so full
After such a loss?
I loved who I was,
I speak of myself like a eulogy,
I am a priest over my own bed,
Demanding myself to leave,
To come back,
To do anything but lay here
I am grieving myself,
Becoming a mold for my own casket.