Grief has a strange way of working
Some days, I'd rather wither away in bed
Other days, I'd rather drink and neglect
It hauls you back and forth like a twisted game of tug of war
When you think you're on the verge of victory,
The other side pulls you in and suddenly you’re stuck reminiscing
Curious as to when shit will feel normal again
Or when the melancholy will creep it’s way back in
Fearing it’ll drag you under again
Fearing this time it’ll make itself a permanent resident
Like this time its demanding its own room with 24 hour service and a breathtaking view
Grief has a strange way of working
It slips away like the bottle of wine you’ve finished before midnight
And somehow, someway you’ve convinced yourself that you’re fine
You’ll go walking through life as if everything within you didn’t just die
You let the smile plastered on your face fool those around you including the reflection in the mirror
Nights seem a lot lonelier
With the exception of the startling 2 a.m. visitor who comes knocking down doors
You wish there was a tighter lock
You wish there was a better hiding spot
But grief will always make its way to you
And truthfully, sometimes I just allow it to
I let grief consume me because there is nothing shameful about a good cry
There is nothing shameful about clearing my eyes
Some days are more difficult than others
Because no one expected me to be fine
Grief has a funny way of working
It never officially introduces herself to you
Doesn’t offer a warm welcome on the porch
Or extends her invisible hand forward
And you find yourself relentlessly trying to pinpoint the moment in which you two met
Can anyone answer this, truthfully?
I’ve let grief live in me for quite some time
But that’s the funny thing about her:
She’s taught me how to let her go without a proper goodbye
But I know its not the last I’ll see of her
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