Do not believe what they tell you about Grief:
I will tell you this much because I know him very well.
Grief is an old
and sad
and terrible friend
who clings to you with the heaviness of a freight train
but finds the litheness to spring from you weightless.
He holds your throat in the strength of his hand,
bruises your skin, confuses your body
and lets go only when you've made it clear
that you have surrendered
and settled for a life of him.
He will leave
you will find relief
time will go by
and then you will feel different, gentle, beautiful hands on your arms,
hands that remind you
that humans can be tender
and suddenly you cannot help
but think of how Grief held you so long ago and
by mistake
(what have you done?)
you have allowed his return,
he has taken your reverie
as an ominous invitation
to ever so slowly curl his limbs around your ribcage,
invade your warrior bloodstream
and effortlessly cut off
every molecule of oxygen you had spent so very long breathing in.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
Do not believe what they tell you about Grief:
I will tell you this much because I know him very well.
Grief is an old
and sad
and terrible friend
who clings to you with the heaviness of a freight train
but finds the litheness to spring from you weightless.
He holds your throat in the strength of his hand,
bruises your skin, confuses your body
and lets go only when you've made it clear
that you have surrendered
and settled for a life of him.
He will leave
you will find relief
time will go by
and then you will feel different, gentle, beautiful hands on your arms,
hands that remind you
that humans can be tender
and suddenly you cannot help
but think of how Grief held you so long ago and
by mistake
(what have you done?)
you have allowed his return,
he has taken your reverie
as an ominous invitation
to ever so slowly curl his limbs around your ribcage,
invade your warrior bloodstream
and effortlessly cut off
every molecule of oxygen you had spent so very long breathing in.
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