You know what
***** so much about
Grief?

It's not the getting-over-it stage
But rather the
I-thought-I-got-over-it stage.

It's when you've tucked them away
So neatly in a convenient crevice,
Thrown those memories so far out to sea
That you're so sure they'd never float back.

That's when it *****.

When the waves of Time
Carry back your secret bottle of forgotten memories
And the messages touch the very shore of your mind.
And you thought it was a treasure map
Or some happy message,
Even a letter for help would've been better.

But when you unscrew that bottle
And read the message.
There it is again,
Months, days, minutes or just

Seconds

After you thought you'd disposed of
This unfortunate treasure:
Grief strikes you,
Ever stronger,
Ever harder and
Ever longer.

Then your little mind will once again
Be flooded by blasted Grief.