If grief was not love,
I wouldn't be here,
With a bleeding wound,
Feeling the feel that I feel,
Though ancient it seems,
Deeper is the bleeding,
And forever dripping
All of me wish you were here,
To answer these million questions at hand,
"Why, how, did you?"
Yet it goes forever unanswered,
And turns into a voicemail
If grief was not love,
I wouldn't be here
Listening to the Sunday Blues
Aug 8, 2023
Aug 8, 2023 at 3:17 PM UTC
If grief was not love,
I wouldn't be here,
With a bleeding wound,
Feeling the feel that I feel,
Though ancient it seems,
Deeper is the bleeding,
And forever dripping
All of me wish you were here,
To answer these million questions at hand,
"Why, how, did you?"
Yet it goes forever unanswered,
And turns into a voicemail
If grief was not love,
I wouldn't be here
Listening to the Sunday Blues
Request permission to use this poem