When someone dies,
there will always be that ONE person who tells you,
"get over it"
as if the world hadn't stopped as soon as they left.
But what they don't know is the gaping hole in my heart.
The huge absence that was once always there.
Mourning is not just a word,
it's a practice.
Each time, we get a little better.
But tears still end up winding their way down our cheeks.
Each time, it brings a pain not felt last time.
Each time, bringing regrets and taunts because there was just something we did or didn't do.
But if you truly have the audacity  to tell me to get over it,
well,
let me tell you that the person I mourn for,
will not be coming back any time soon.
And when you open your mouth to speak,
you open your heart for all attacks aimed right towards you.
I will not stop crying so you can stop hearing me.
No.
Because my tears are life,
and they bloom to show that I am a human.
You cannot define me by something,
if you have felt it for yourself.
Who can say,
they've never lost a thing?
Because I can count one.
You lost respect
from ME