Saturday, 9 April 2016

If grief had a voice

I come like a black cloud on a sunny day. 
But i'm a cloud with teeth, big teeth -
all the better to eat you with my dear. 
I chew you up, grind your memories between molars, 
hold you tight in my grip. 
I tumble you on my tongue, 
churn up all the what-ifs of your broken world 
until you don't know truth from lies, 
up from down. 

Sometimes, at night, I take my teeth out and 
then I swallow you whole into the damp cavity of my blackness. 
You like it then, you know you do. 
It is safe there where pain is the truth, 
the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 
There you feel alive. 

Just when you're comfortable, settling in,
I spit you back out, still wet, to stumble blindly into sunlight. 
I leave you numb with no compass in a foreign land, 
frozen in the glare of another day. 
Don't worry. I will come again soon. 
When you least expect me. 
When you don't want me. 
I like to keep you on your toes.

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