No one tells you how grief works. It doesn’t end with the funeral. It comes back in seasons and sits comfortably in your lap, palms and heart. You know this sadness it taste the same every year. Some days, you think of her and smile. Other days, you weep your tears dry. You pull the weeds and they grow again. It never end. Grief is the ex-lover that calls every now and then.
The tragedy spoke and said
“I wanted to make a life with an idea”
He bends my wrists back with his words.
I am worthy. I am worthy. I am worthy.
Yet, somehow those words remain unheard.
I cannot be like the moon and only shine enough so that you can be the sun.
You remind me of the men in my family
The way you break only in the presence of God.
How you hide your pain so deep inside
Words are crawling out your throat
But you cage them in silence.
-A man’s pride
I understand you.
The way your heart and mind are in a constant war.
How your thoughts become autoimmune.
The way you become comfortable in pain because it feels so familiar.
I understand what its like to swallow so many words theres books growing inside.
I know what its like to find shelter in between each word.
As if safety is when you write.
-Write your pain
He doesn’t love you. Happiness doesn’t taste like your tears at 3am. Happiness isn’t a reflection of your insecurities. Happiness isn’t about forgiving when you know you shouldn’t. Happiness isn’t about making that man the “one” when the only one that needs love is you.Happiness won’t make you feel empty when he’s not around. He can say you’re beautiful, and that he needs you you but darling he doesn’t love you.