Grief is not a wave, but nearly every other thing is.
There are times I want to say things, a
turn of phrase, a
joke, a
metaphor for the way my brain knows
—knew—
the waves of your brain.
We, oscillations of mirth and beseeching, “please
don’t ever leave me, not one other
else knows the banter.”
I go through my phone to find one
other else who would get it and
I know who would try
—I thought, I think— but I
know I will hold their scatter of responses to my ear and
hope to hear the
ocean.
3 thoughts on "Grief is not a wave, but nearly every other thing is."
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Love this one! And its movement
The title alone. Yes. ๐
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