The Oxford definition of grief is “a very sad feeling, especially when somebody dies” and without experiencing much death, my heart seems to contain an overwhelming amount of grief. Grief is a ballad that hums through my pinna, and ossicles that amplify as the memories seem to retrieve back, back to my throat and back to my head, as my prefrontal cortex struggles to update to the new reality that they are gone. Grief a buzz; buzzing throughout my head senseless of what's happening, failure in distinguishing between the past and the present and all that is filled is the yearning, the ache, the remainder of my incompetent nature and how i discarded the love i dreamt of ; GRIEF. Grief that suffocates me as it resembles the love I pushed away, the dreams I let go of , the desires I relinquished, forfeited, resisted, doubted and retained. Grievance is all I have in my vast little heart, the heart that aches to love and be loved for. Grief rots between my days and leaves a stench that impulses me to recall about the things that cannot be undone. The stench is a scent that I carry myself with, that lingers around every space I fill, every road I take, every room I breathe. It is the echo of my stubbornness, pride and prejudicial nature.
They say grief is an impact of loving and that grieving is a blessing of life. How am i to feel blessed when my heart thumps at the thought of what i lost. How is it that I am fortunate to grieve when there lives a vacant tear that cannot be filled. The tear that sinks me in seconds by seconds. Those who don't grieve don't live. But grieving takes away my hours; my days. Grief blinds me from the beauty of life as it takes me to a corner, the corner that was once was filled with love but now a void, the void I created . So grief holds me a prisoner of guilt and I succumb myself to it and lie there grieving. Now grieving has become so known it's become a solace. I’ve grown a comfort in grieving and immune to the thought that there is more for me.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 7:08 AM UTC
The Oxford definition of grief is “a very sad feeling, especially when somebody dies” and without experiencing much death, my heart seems to contain an overwhelming amount of grief. Grief is a ballad that hums through my pinna, and ossicles that amplify as the memories seem to retrieve back, back to my throat and back to my head, as my prefrontal cortex struggles to update to the new reality that they are gone. Grief a buzz; buzzing throughout my head senseless of what's happening, failure in distinguishing between the past and the present and all that is filled is the yearning, the ache, the remainder of my incompetent nature and how i discarded the love i dreamt of ; GRIEF. Grief that suffocates me as it resembles the love I pushed away, the dreams I let go of , the desires I relinquished, forfeited, resisted, doubted and retained. Grievance is all I have in my vast little heart, the heart that aches to love and be loved for. Grief rots between my days and leaves a stench that impulses me to recall about the things that cannot be undone. The stench is a scent that I carry myself with, that lingers around every space I fill, every road I take, every room I breathe. It is the echo of my stubbornness, pride and prejudicial nature.
They say grief is an impact of loving and that grieving is a blessing of life. How am i to feel blessed when my heart thumps at the thought of what i lost. How is it that I am fortunate to grieve when there lives a vacant tear that cannot be filled. The tear that sinks me in seconds by seconds. Those who don't grieve don't live. But grieving takes away my hours; my days. Grief blinds me from the beauty of life as it takes me to a corner, the corner that was once was filled with love but now a void, the void I created . So grief holds me a prisoner of guilt and I succumb myself to it and lie there grieving. Now grieving has become so known it's become a solace. I’ve grown a comfort in grieving and immune to the thought that there is more for me.
