Tuesday, April 25, 2017

acceptance is a blank page.


the loose ends you leave behind and
how you disappear show the ones
who love you everything they will ever need to know

the first stage of grief leaves you standing in the grocery store a
forgotten child, the face of loneliness wielding a knife
next to local produce and a bent woman
who shouts “dear, are you okay” as you crumple to your knees
staring blankly at the empty space

you relive the fear in your stories as a reminder that you can,
to justify what your clever mind will not permit you to release

terror follows you across the parking lot to your car
anger clings like a wet dress tripping you up
exposing the truth, spinning the truth
helpless as a spider circling in a bathroom drain

loss is drowning at the bottom of a bottle
re-reading words written by the perfect lover
who never could have existed, but in your mind

pain is a silhouette with his back to the
wind, looking over dark water in a soundless loop
though you are not permitted to see his face
because he is always turning away

the fifth stage of grief slides over you silently as
morning splays across the cat at the foot of the bed, sliding
up the wall and over dust that covers a smiling face in graphite
maybe you remember being content then,
but those eyes are no longer yours



© 4.25.2017 heather brager


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