I’m moving slowly
past the anguished part of grief
into the more routine
the daily waking and sighing
the hiccups in midday
the restless arms at night
it’s sort of like carrying
an incredibly full, near exploding bladder the entire day
uncomfortable,
painful if I lean the wrong way,
if I shift my weight without thinking about it
(like I could even momentarily forget)
walk gently
run angrily
stand still
it does not matter
there is the pressure, and the awareness of the pressure,
mindlessly blowing air into my veins
always always
knocking on my bones
the unbearable thing about grief
is that is can never fully be emptied.
All so very, very true
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