impermanence

ten.

𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

i read a book once
in which a woman
had to hold
her heart in her chest
in the wake of grief.

sometimes, i feel like that too.

sometimes, i find myself
with a hand placed tightly
to my chest,
holding my heart in its
place.

sometimes, i feel as if my
heart
could fall straight out
of my body
at any moment
and leave nothing but
empty space behind.

the question—
what am i grieving then?

no one has died
or left me behind

but maybe, just maybe,
i'm grieving
myself.

i'm grieving the childhood i
never got, the one i wish i had

i'm grieving feelings that
have come and gone,
good and bad all slipping
through my fingers like dust

i'm grieving the hearts i've
broken, the relationships i've lost

i'm grieving the silent tears i cry
in the night
with a hand placed over my mouth

i'm grieving the pain
fossilized inside me

and grieving the death of stars,
hundreds of light years away.

grief is a strange thing,
spinning its sticky spider web,
and we all feel it in our own ways—

us, the broken,
with our hands over
our hearts.