24/11/2023
It’s been six and a half years,
And no one mentions him.
I guess I don’t blame them,
It must be uncomfortable
To walk on eggshells
Around someone who is grieving.
Maybe they don’t know what to say,
or maybe they thought
I should be “over it” by now.
They don’t see my tears anymore,
Or hear my screams
As I drive alone down a lonely road.
Those who know me,
Know only part of me.
The part that isn’t difficult to be around
The part that isn’t
Stuck forever in her grief.
But it’s okay with me
That they don’t understand.
I wouldn’t wish this pain
Upon anyone,
I’m glad they are oblivious.
I am made of sharp edges
And many stitches
and for that,
I will not apologize.