It must be how grief feels

tastless bland dull against

salivary glands

no smell whatsoever

just a dampness in the soul

old enough to grow mould

and turn dreary dumb

it must be how grief feels

salty on the lips

wet on the cheeks

a sharp nudge

on the spine

a weary thud on the floor

it must be how grief feels

numbing smell

of joy of living

sore throating you for life

and the steam sort of

aggravating the ambush

over steam, I mean

some say solitude is good

but what of grief in solitude

that kills slowly,

dulling out light

what of it?


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