Some days 

I still wish I could 

see myself through your eyes,

even if just once more

It’s not enough 

to know that once upon a time 

you loved me 

as much as you would ever love


and the photographs that once spoke a thousand words

hide away quietly in boxes

waiting for the day 

when the memory of your face

won’t make me

crumble inside.

A dirty word called grief

No one speaks of grief.

The world seems to always be

unprepared for the aftermath 

of death.

I wish someone would’ve warned me

listen, you’ll be shattered in places

you didn’t even know 

existed before

but the dead can’t speak and 

the living are clueless 

because they decided

that the worst of the dirty words

is the one called