Grief is
potential,
it is a light
headedness in
your feet.
Ergo, it’s
spoiler.
It’s a splinter
in
your finger:
it is a craft
to have:
you should go
ahead and sleep
in a quiet grave.
It’s a constant
sorrow that’ll be
your alter-ego
for the life to
come.
It does not
leave.
It just gets the
better of you.
And you learn to
get the better of
it.