There's something in my closet. Its raspy monster breath makes my curtains flutter at night. I tell my mom, but she says it's just the sound of the wind whispering secrets to the moon.
There's
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Mourning feels like opening an empty drawer
And weighing the hollow space.
Mourning tastes like soup that's gone cold,
What was once a warm memory has now been replaced.
Mourning is remembering to say was and not is,
And forgetting after each reminder.
Mourning is overthinking for days,
And wishing you had been kinder.
Mourning is not the end of the world,
But for one moment,
When everything is silent, gone, said, and done,
It creates a crevice deep in your heart
Painful enough to cause Armageddon.
And weighing the hollow space.
Mourning tastes like soup that's gone cold,
What was once a warm memory has now been replaced.
Mourning is remembering to say was and not is,
And forgetting after each reminder.
Mourning is overthinking for days,
And wishing you had been kinder.
Mourning is not the end of the world,
But for one moment,
When everything is silent, gone, said, and done,
It creates a crevice deep in your heart
Painful enough to cause Armageddon.