Imprint

I roll over to your side of the bed.

My limbs search for yours,

My lungs for your scent,

My mouth for your kiss.

But all that’s left is your imprint.

And my tears seep into your pillow once again.

Lies

There is no better place.
Those we love don’t walk beside us.
There are no other rooms.
You will stand at that grave and weep.
There are more than five stages.
There are more than two parts.
Tears are not silent.
There is no peace or comfort to find.
Time heals nothing.
You’ll always walk alone.

And grief is like a fucking tsunami,
so good luck learning to swim in that.