Is sorrow defined
by the absence of something you love
or the echoes of what you once held dear?
Or is it defined by the lack of warmth once felt,
the only remnant now, the shadows you learned to fear?
Perhaps it is neither.
Or perhaps, it is both.
All I know, and have known,
is that sorrow is what you feel after letting something go.
Maybe sorrow was meant to stay vague.
