My grief is a mask behind a smile mask behind my sad face. In my worst moments, I’d close my real eyes and dream, I’d let the tears flow and wipe them just as quick and no one would know because I am happy – always.

My grief is a scream suppressed in my throat fighting for freedom, wishing to be let out just as I wish the grief away. But say one wish were a horse, would I not ride a thousand? This wish – for freedom – won’t go away, you see? One day, I’ll let it all out.

My grief thaws at my heart, it lures me to the edge and says jump and just when my heart listens, I hear someone say ‘your happiness inspires me’ and my mask smiles and my grief waits to haunt me again.

My grief is the love I’ve waited so long to feel, snatched away from me in its prime. My grief is unforgiving, for it once lived in hope that this feeling called love would last forever; that once again I’d know to love a man.

He was a gentleman, this one, willing to bid his time and be patient till I was ready to love again. Should I have been ready when he was? Maybe. For my grief is unforgiving…of me. He could have lived.

How can my grief guide my feet to the home of a family that does not know my name? How can my grief move my tongue to tell them that I was the one he was waiting for; the one they hoped would love him back? The one who killed him.

Will they say his organs failed? Or that he drowned in his own blood? Will they see the heavy bag of blame that bends my back? Will they say he called my name? Will they hate me for never being there? Will this hurt ever go away?

My grief and I will stay alone today and drench the pillow with my tears and I’ll hope to see him again, his bloodied face behind a smile mask and maybe when I see him, I’ll let out the suppressed scream and my grief will finally leave me be.




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