Grief. 
They always say “it comes in waves”
Sometimes the waves are your t shirts I sleep in.
Sometimes they are your secret chili recipe we will never be able to recreate. 

Other times the waves turn into a typhoon.
They crash so loud around me
They drown out your voice
They drown out your laugh
They drown out your smell
I’m drowning
I can’t see

They are pulling me
Down
   Down
      Down
With 
    Them
Eventually,
   They
     Endup
       Drowning





                                   Me.