There are still surges of grief
when I hear of you
being somewhere that I’m not.
There are still spurts of rawness
when I think of you
doing things where I’m not.
The emotion rises suddenly
like fizzing, bubbling waves
cresting on sand
then abating
but
ready to come again.
It makes me breathless,
takes me by surprise -
the speedy upswell of feeling
from a deep well
that does not yet seem emptied.
Trying to keep my face calm
expressionless
as the emotion surges within.
An observer could note a twitch,
a saddening of the eyes
as my thoughts turn inwards
and remember that we’re not.