True To Myself

Grief tastes like bitter tea leaves,

floating in sewer water.

Grief tastes like limoncello 

I drank when my dad died.
In my head,

silence is loud,

screaming,

roaring.
In my head,

noise is silent,

gagged,

still.

This invisible bubble between us,

I don't want to swim in these waters filled with misery.

To be honest being grateful does not make this

task easier,

I am human and I am flawed,

I need to feel the storm sweeping 

me away inside my head,

leaving an imprint on my soul.
I need to stand still and acknowledge
it and welcome it,
I need to feel.

I do not mean to cause you more pain,
I do not mean to linger,

I just need to be true to myself.
I remember when my mom was sick,
and dying,
I came to you depleted, 
you held me,
our eyes interlocked,
I inhaled your breath as you inhaled my sorrow.
We've been here before,
this part of life,
facing that we have no control.
Life fragile,
pain is pain,
and there is no sequel.
I do not mean to cause you any pain,
I do not mean to linger,
I just need to be true to myself.



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