#bargaining
Grief’s first edge is keen,
The sharpest ever seen.
It cuts a wound so deep
That even time can’t keep.
Then ache subsides to numb.
So bells forget to drum,
So rain forgets its name.
No grief stays quite the same.
May 3
May 3, 2026 at 6:34 PM UTC
I rinse the mug
before putting it in the sink.
Then I rinse it again
because it still smells like coffee,
even though I didn’t drink any.
I set it on the rack
beside yours,
leaving space
like I always do.
The stove clicks on.
Oil heats.
I cook enough for two
without thinking about it,
because thinking
is slower than habit.
I leave the food on the stove
because you hate it
when it gets cold.
The clock moves to six ten.
I stir once more
even though it doesn’t need it.
Six fifteen.
I sit at the table
so you don’t have to eat alone
when you get here.
Six twenty.
The clock keeps going
like it expects something.
I turn the stove off.
They say, “I’m so sorry,”
and wait
like there’s nothing left to explain.
I nod
because that feels
like the correct response.
There are messages from before
that I open carefully,
like they might break
if I rush them.
I scroll.
I scroll back.
I scroll forward again.
The screen does not change.
The clock says six.
I wash my hands.
The clock still says six.
I dry them on my shirt
because the towel
is damp
and I don’t remember
why.
The clock is louder now.
I flinch
before it ticks.
The light flickers.
Once.
Then stays on
like it didn’t do anything wrong.
I hit the switch.
Too bright.
I hit it again.
The dark presses closer.
I leave it on.
My jaw hurts.
I realize
I’ve been holding it shut
when it clicks
as I let go.
The pen on the table
isn’t straight.
I nudge it.
It rolls
and taps the edge.
I grab the pen
before it can fall
and set it down
harder than necessary.
My fingers stay there
longer than they should.
They feel thick.
Like they belong
to someone else.
The table looks tilted.
I stop.
The chair scrapes
when I move it in.
The noise stays
in my teeth.
I push it back.
The legs don’t line up.
I kick one
until they do.
The clock keeps counting
like it’s winning.
I notice my hands
because they’re clenched.
I didn’t tell them to be.
I open one slowly.
The skin pulls tight.
I press my thumb
into my wrist
until it turns white.
It takes too long
to come back.
There are more veins
than I remember.
Thin.
Weird.
I trace one
and lose it
when my fingers twitch.
I count,
because counting
keeps things
where I leave them.
One.
Two.
My hand is steady now.
That makes me angry.
The knife is already over it.
I don’t remember
picking it.
It waits
like it’s been paying attention.
The space between us
is small enough
to measure.
Inches don’t argue.
The light hums.
The pen rolls
when I don’t touch it.
The chair creaks
even though I stay still.
The clock ticks
between numbers.
I try to remember
the sound of your voice
and realize
I’ve been using my own
for a while now.
That feels like stealing.
I look for something
to hold onto
and keep finding objects
that only work
when someone else
is here.
The chair does its job.
The table stays upright.
The clock keeps time
like none of this
concerns it.
I think
this must be what healing
looks like,
nothing arguing back.
I don’t cry.
That seems important.
I wait for it
the way people say you do,
but my body doesn’t understand
the instruction.
It sits.
It breathes.
It continues.
I realize
no one is coming
to check
if I’m doing this right.
I say your name
quietly,
just to see
if it still works.
It does.
It just doesn’t change anything.
I try to imagine
the rest of my life
and can’t find
where it starts.
That’s not panic.
That’s clarity.
The clock ticks.
I don’t count anymore.
I let it.
Feb 17
Feb 17, 2026 at 2:47 PM UTC
Grief is a cyclic spell.
It loops.
It spares none.
It's inevitable.
This poem follows through each stage of grief like a spell—
Untamed.
Unbound.
— The First Stage —
Burdens are discreet, like shadows they creep,
Disguised as excuses, seeping in deep, shaking core beliefs.
Should I care about them? I don't feel the need.
I am not in the deep!
I am so close to the...
To the conclusion!
To the retribution!
Indeed.
I know what I'm talking about.
For I'm not weak.
I do not bleed.
— The Second Stage —
Reenacting noir violence as something prophetic,
Proportional to the lethargy and lapse in memory.
Craving the caves as they
cave in melancholy.
Framing the phrase as they
phase in verbally.
Adding the daze as they
laze in physically.
Blaming the place but they
can't pace gently.
Desperate to bridge the gap so they
race profusely.
Virtuous? Why should I care about them?
I don't feel the need!
They never did care for me anyway—
even when I was drowning in deep!!
But now when I am so close to the...
To the destruction!
To the retribution!
They care? *****
Indeed.
I know what they're talkin' about.
I am not weak.
And I refuse to bleed.
— The Third Stage —
Knowing the taste of fear they
made a note mentally.
Faster they ran to master it tactfully.
Dreaming how good it will feel if it ends silently.
Beaming with delusion they fell prey to cult activity.
Worshiping day and night, swallowed by ritualistic vanity.
Failure in results added fuel to the aggressive analogy.
Looking for meaning brewed life into inhumanity.
Myth or not, this bizarre journey
will lead to a dark ending.
But who's sane enough to reject the voluntary heretic ascendency?
Forget transparency—lowered guards breed corruptancy.
If I shall care enough, will I be granted a reprieve?
I can no longer swim this deep.
Almost there...
For the happiness.
For the redemption.
Away from the slip.
Tell me I'm not too late.
Tell me I'm doing great.
Tell me I'll be okay.
Tell me I won't bleed.
— The Fourth Stage —
Defence is irrelevant when you're deemed unworthy;
Among these foolish creatures none have a slither of sanctity.
Only the demonic hymn echoes through the monastery.
Surviving Curates pray for mercy.
The massive inflow of broken kin brings tears in the building.
The priest stays silent though, which enrages the victims.
They heckle at him and start grumbling.
Seeing the teary-eyed priest, they realise their wrongdoings.
Helpless and bound, the victims cry out for safety.
Whatever should I ever care for,
for nothing holds a meaning.
Am I drowning?
Am I swimming?
I'm lost in the deep.
So close to the...
To the silence.
The oblivion of reckoning.
Wish I was strong enough to change a thing.
But I was weak from the beginning.
Thus, I bleed.
— The Fifth Stage —
Eerily, the bewitching entity distorts it with ranting—
The entity, namely self-pity, flourishing,
Birthed by burdens, fed by the masses' frolicking tendencies.
Exuberates an overwhelming aura, seemingly understanding.
Careful—this is the seed of self-loathing.
"Verily, must it be prompting?
Must it be coaxed with hoaxes, propelling redundancy?"
You think no one resisted this hypnotic screeching?
In this abominable world brave warriors took a standing.
Vexed and perplexed, anxiety stacked,
emotional wrecks, Reaper's back,
falsehood's flag, regrets that drag,
weaker to help.
Yes, I care.
Care, because I know what it brings.
Care, for we all swam through the deep.
Care, for I am so close...
To the end and the beginning.
Care, for now I know the meaning.
Care, for I know what I have become.
Neither weak
Nor strong.
Care, because I must bleed.
For—
Burdens are discreet, like shadows they creep...
-Asher Graves
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 9:11 AM UTC
Denial
The news breaks
The words come,
but they slide off my skin
like rain on a window.
I keep moving,
setting the table, watering the plants,
as if the world hasn’t fractured
in a way I can’t unsee.
Anger
The air feels sharp,
each breath jagged,
and I want to break something.
The cups in the cupboard tremble,
my fingers curl into fists.
Why this?
Why now?
Why me?
Bargaining
In the quiet, I begin to bargain,
with gods I don’t believe in,
with time that won’t listen.
If I had been better,
smarter, kinder,
maybe it wouldn’t have ended like this.
The universe stays silent
Depression
It swallows me whole,
a deep ocean without light.
I stop reaching for the shore.
The bed becomes my sanctuary,
though it offers no peace.
I float,
adrift,
nothing to anchor me.
Acceptance
There’s no epiphany,
no sudden light breaking through clouds.
Just a morning
where I rise
and the weight feels less like a boulder
and more like a stone
I can carry in my pocket.
It’s no permanent solution
But it’s just enough to last me the day.
Jul 14, 2025
Jul 14, 2025 at 3:42 AM UTC
I can't believe that you have gone.
This isn't real, it’s a ruse, it's a trick,
your absence lingers like dawn's mist,
but with the sunrise it will surely lift.
My phone will ring, the door is unlocked,
and I’ll keep your dinner warm
as I wait for you to come home.
Why the hell did you have to die?!
My fists press hard against the wall,
and I clench my teeth until my jaw hurts,
as tears roll down cheeks flushed with anger.
I curse God, time, space, fate,
and everything that took you away.
I was never much of a haggler,
but, I’ll trade all of my tomorrows for yesterday,
and I’ll find a way to save you
and cherish every moment with you.
Please, rewind the clock, I pray;
Even if it is just for one more day.
Gloominess penetrates my worn-out bones,
as lead weights burden my heavy steps.
My breath feels too heavy to carry,
and these memories are too painful to hold.
I sink, I drown, I gasp for air,
and I fade into the depths of despair.
But, after a while, life is not so hard,
I watch the sunrise, as a new dawn begins,
and your memory no longer hurts to recall,
instead, it warms my heart like a gentle hug.
I smile because you lived and you were loved;
And somehow, I can accept that this is
more than enough.
Please, now go and rest in peace.
©️Lizzie Bevis
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 5:16 PM UTC
Death is inevitable and unforgiving.
Emotions just as unforgiving and unrelenting.
Regret and pain swell up,
A lump in your throat,
Swallowed to form the pit in your stomach.
Nights extend and days shorten with every passing thought.
If time had a hand, surely you'd hold it.
Pulling them back, begging-
pleading not to move forward.
Yet instead you're dragged along, Death only in the distance.
Oct 25, 2022
Oct 25, 2022 at 12:52 PM UTC
Sometimes I still wake up at night.
To my mid-day terrors.
And my room always feels empty.
My eyes fall off back into time.
I'd always hear you say
That we'd be better off
But who are you to say so
When you're not here anymore.
And I wake up in the after glow
Of the sun from my midnight terrors
This place is just too much for me.
I'd rather not stop to look and see.
And I remember that you'd always say
Nothing would last that long
But how could you tell me that
When you've been gone for far too long.
When I dive back to the sea of dreams
I close my eyes and can't help but think
You were right all along
But I can't tell you that anymore.
And yet as I drift off into the evening sky
Your voice is still as clear as it was that time.
And I wish that I could have this back
Your kind words and the hope you'd bring.
And all the parts I lost that you took from me.
-Persephone
Apr 28, 2022
Apr 28, 2022 at 8:05 AM UTC
First the diagnosis
Then the prognosis
Indeed it is cirrhosis
Alongside the cancer
Is the answer
They will no longer be a dancer
First comes shock
At no longer being a chip off the old block
Wanting to throw a rock
It just can’t be they are too young
Why has it spread to the lung
Will these be the last words rung
I want to ring its neck
But we need all hands on deck
So emotions are kept in check
Then sadness comes along
Oh this is so wrong
They want us to be strong
All leading to depression
And many a session
Even a confession
Can’t they be given another chance
Couldn’t there be a different circumstance
But in the end we all end up at acceptance
The five stages of grief
In a brief
Poem is my belief
Andreas Simic ©
Feb 4, 2022
Feb 4, 2022 at 8:43 AM UTC
- [x] Denial: i ran to the ends of the earth to get some answers. Death was the only response I received. No! That didn’t happen! Leave me alone!
- [x] Anger: why am I cursing your name in these recycling bins? I hate you with all my being! I’m so glad I don’t have to see you. I hope you rot like a corpse in the dying cemetery.
- [x] Bargaining: please, I’ll stop wining if I get her back. I won’t complain anymore; I won’t dare act put out. I’ll respond to her old texts or emails or whatever. I’ll do anything...
- [x] Depression: my bones are aching. I can’t hold myself upright. In fact- I hate myself. I gag watching my reflection in the mirror. If you stopped liking me, who can love me now? I used to admire the ripples in the stream, but now I punch the water and cry until my hands are pruny. It’s not healthy, but I’m hopeless and nothing can fix me.
- [ ] Acceptance: yesterday I thought of you and I didn’t frown. I smiled bittersweetly, cause you are gone still, but it’s over. You were a fabulous friend for all those years. I won’t forget that. I’ll let go of the sorrow and the years we spent together. I’ll walk the way of the weather vane and dry my tears in the light of the sun. Thank you for the moments and goodbye my old solider.
Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 6:26 PM UTC
Thank the Gods you didn't come back from the dead to haunt me again today
I may have actually believed you
I may have actually taken your word again
I may have taken you back and done more damage to myself than there already is
I hope you stay dead
But when a ghost is in love with you, well
Sometimes they just come back for you
Singing love songs and whispering sweet nothings on the wind
It's terrifying, really
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 12:38 PM UTC
Thinking of the way the wind blows
It seems a bit lighter today.
Closing my eyes,
I lose moments of my existence;
A year left to live…
Is it a curse to have the task
Of writing daily?
Should I blame the sky
For all the wear
I’m undertaking,
Before an undertaker
Assesses my lifeless figure
And helps others remember
Who I was--
Resurrecting me with makeup
And sewing me back together?
Is it a curse to be alive,
Living only half of what was promised
As sleep takes the stars from my sight
And blinking steals moments
Out of every frame of my life?
It’s hard to be witness
To such an existence
I wonder what their punishment
Will be if I miss a day posting.
Should I resign?
Or will they just force me?
I’m afraid of what’s to come,
But blinking is stealing
Moments of my life away--
Moments, I surmise, that in bargaining,
I could regain.
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 8:24 PM UTC
Excuse me, sir
Can I buy a bit of time?
Death day is coming fairly soon
Looking at stars, I could read the signs
Slicing scythes through souls
To leave a hole in my whole being.
Without any modification still,
I feel a broken existence is all they're seeing.
That's not to say this life is shallow
But the targets I am aiming just end up breaking
When my points are sitting hollow.
Sir, if I could have a moment more,
My life fluid dripping from my heart
Puddling the bathroom floor.
No one tends to notice, no one stops
Today, I kick the bucket. Tomorrow, they just mop.
Forgetting to be human
To all other human beings,
Writing cries but no one's reading.
Please, if I could have a second...
Okay, no hand wavering, I get it.
Just let me close my eyes
Drifting into another spectrum.
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:48 AM UTC
You wish to turn back time
So you can live a little longer
With the ones you love
But the ache will be stronger
And they will still be gone
So don’t beg for the impossible.
© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 11:34 AM UTC
i think i went about this all wrong
this grief you gave me
because i skipped ahead
read the end
i fell straight through the floorboards
into bargaining
begging, anything, everything
my kingdom for your time
i brushed straight passed denial
i knew what you’d done before you did it
the forth step broke under my feet
it hit me with a vividness
it left me starving, sleepless
i laid there next to you
and felt the beast i thought i’d slain
open up it's hungry maw
my acceptance after was for my sake
a forgiveness of myself for believing you
but never forgiveness of what you did
and it was in this acceptance that i found anger
a stranger, someone who kisses my cheek
and says how tall i’ve grown but it's name i had forgotten
until now, now when it bathes me in it's fire
and i am cleansed by it, burned out of the beast’s jaw
and this cruelty i feel, it is yours alone
my pains in the past brought indifference
so often there was nothing left to fashion into hatred
but, by god, you gave me so much
so much fleshy material, patches of your selfishness
whole sheets of your betrayal, ribbons of your pettiness
/you ******* child/
i can make quilts out of your mistake
murals of this viciousness you’ve given me
i shall wrap it around my naked shoulders and sleep in it.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 3:33 PM UTC
This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.
There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.
Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.
You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.
Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.
That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.
And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 12:07 PM UTC
i’m wearing malbec lipstick at 330 in the afternoon, my own personal hue that stains lips and teeth, drips down my chin so a tongue flicks out to savor the drop. it leaves a maroon trace like i’ve been ******* blood.
when i swill the wine, it captivates me. like i'm swishing around my own blood, praying enough of it sloshes out to **** me.
i’m headed to catholic church in an hour, maybe i’ll light a candle for myself.
god knows i ******* need it.
i’m at that delicate lining, the in-between stage of the five stages of grief. the soft spot at the base of my skull. self-destruct button that’s so tempting, nestled between anger and depression. skip bargaining. take a trip around the sun.
i've lost my hair tie and i want it back.
i've lost my heart and i want it back. ******* give it back.
reapply mauve lipstick the flavor of malbec. go to church. rinse the good off when you get home.
i still feel him inside of me. taking everything. claiming it as his own, two hundred and fifty-eight hours later. like he’s stained me and now i'm tainted and unapproachable. undesirable.
piece of plastic wrap that used to keep his heart fresh, now i'm trash.
now i’m his.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:03 AM UTC
Black on black on black on black
Wood tar pitched and shackled back
Back to back to back to back
Paid in full no matter man fact
priceless pain packed pickings to rack
crack the back of blacks to stack
paper to pay to paper for play and man
Who's black backs crack and snap
Crack sha clack to crack to Sha clack
Blood and labor and words no savior
On roads and rails and rocks on street blocks
Laws to wrap the black lack in locks
dread locks and cops and knocks and knots
Locks and laws and loops from logs
backlogged black laws closed jaws and halls
freedom is someone who knows the walls
You live you learn you see no turn
so learn to know no way to earn
lose your job your home your wife
A way of life is guns and strife
knot in back no friend but lack
black on black on black on black
Run from hoods in hoods and hide
when the moon is full in a land of lies
Sun by day means mad men by night
Free from chains but not from spite
for them deny and then deny
deny deny deny deny
Washed away with whittle white sight
We musta been wrong when white is right
Cops on blocks in shops and hops
Watch for the Man on beat on stops
Crack on corners and broke back moms
peddle from job to job then sob
Mom and Dad Divorced by workforce
Paid pennies *** many "Too dim of Course!"
Get back, You black, No Slack, Take That
can't pay em the same they'll ruin our aim
For Good and Power and money to reign
From hungry to dummy to nummy and slain
held down by Presidents Planters and Pain
The Pain so well ingrained in brain
So train a child the way to grow
Get Money, Get Power, Get Good to Go
Get Smart was said, but a hard road to ***
Some Rattle some Crackle
some Dream some Battle
Moving the movement by Marching the Capital
But capital got capped and Anger got tapped
burning the bridges extended tween US
When Fed help medicate minds but menial
The gun clap on black when black on back
burn the bridge we all worked to track
but silent echoes sha clack sha clack
Attack is back so black react
We gamble on gravity with coin of Change
knowing the game ain't geared for gain
ignore the lack of footing in rain
For certain it's curtains yet playing the same
blinders on, triggers on, surprise when maimed
Forgotten the root so strange fruit ain't strange
Aged in grief raged in street
surprise when lame, inflamed, in heat
We old in defeat deranged and weak
should have been focused on governing seats
Youth forgot when work was sought
In a world wide web the mind was bought
Trapped in chains unseen yet wrought
To dream is deemed an impure thought
Wonder why kids abandoned the plot
A dream deferred is a dream forgot
When truth repeats the gears don't stop
When voting is bought the truth gets locked
in cycles, in history, in catch phrase, then plop!
Black and White in Chains Distraught
Distraught no thought with teeth dry rot
the lot has rot and lost its hot
Slavery Antiquity and Dreaming De' mode'
Truth is Questioned and Fiction la Mode'
Truth is Fact too black for show
So Back too Black to Act just mold
Anger and fear our coal to hold
remember regret, let go, too bold
So revolt loose canary for gold
too late to leap the mind will fold
the future looks cold so cold so cold
but the dice we roll and roll and roll...
But Why?
When Blacks in Stacks in Fear; The Facts.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC
I’ve been bargaining with the sun ever since I can remember.
I’d sit in front of large windows as a child, whispering deals to the clouds,
who had swallowed all the sunlight in their passing,
to let yellow flood the world again,
I didn’t know the sun would return regardless
until hands had been shook - a deal made.
I’d lose a limb or two and repeat the process; ignorant.
nothing has changed.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:58 PM UTC
i. denial
you aren’t gone, no.
you’re going to come back to me.
you’re going to come back.
ii. anger
you promised you’d try;
but the second things got hard,
you didn't look back.
iii. bargaining
its not over yet.
we aren't unfixable.
we’ve come too far now.
iv. depression
i wasn’t enough.
you told me you’d always stay.
you’re not coming back.
v. acceptance
you were my first love,
the first to truly love me;
you won’t be the last.
pc
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Time to write an angry letter
I have played my part
Puppets dancing I surrender
I go home and then
I come back to hear you laughing
I was so afraid
You've been second guessing happy
Where have you been
White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, go ahead, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist in-sanity
Electric tape and chalk outlines
I fix it all for you
I'm the guy who kept you alive
What do you want me to say
I'm sorry
The pressure of survival got me
Calling you back instantly
Don't worry
I'll delete your number
I'm only dumber than you
Intentionally
White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist insanity
Red ink
Dripping from your wrist
You sign a pact
I sink
Into a state of paranoia
It wasn't that bad
White out
You wanna write me out
Well that's fine, you're editing
White out
I'm a sound of a mountain
A portrait of an artist insanity
I'm off again
I'm calling you out again
I'm off again
I'm not drawing
****** lines for you
That's what you wanted me to do
Isn't it
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
Denial of the obvious
I'm just sad today and when it stops raining then I can get a fresh look at this world and see a not so blurry outlook that melds all the colors into grey
Anger at your brain matter
Why wasn't I born into the world right side up, we joked about how difficult I was but is it really a joke when 18 years later I'm wailing out for the same breath of air that I was born needing
Bargaining with the disorders
I have symptoms of Anxiety Disorders but I could also be schizophrenic so maybe we can strike a golden medium of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder so at least then I can create an insane system of disorderly organization.
Depression
How often can you feel sad before you grow desolate and the drear wears away at the valleys on your face and pins you down into a final posture of the broken
Acceptance
I'll Let You know
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC