We are too often called on
to rush through the stages of grief,
because time is not on our side.
But time is one of the only things I can
depend on —
like clockwork, they say —
and the passing of each day
brings us a bit of regularity,
a bit of a routine.
I breathe loudly at night,
checking for your ghost.
If you want to climb into my bed,
curl up beside me,
and we'll stay together again,
at least until the morning arrives
and the mourning is over.
— originally posted on AO3, 2022 —
