I haven't wanted to admit it,
Until now,
But I think,
When my grandpa died,
A part of me did too.I'm not peppy,
Or social,
Or as sweet as I once was.Really,
I'm not innocent anymore.I used to call my grandpa every Sunday
And he would tell me,
"Whew! I'm worn out just listening to you.
You do more in a day than I do in a whole week!"
And he would marvel
At how cheerful I was
And murmur that I never had a bad day.I had bad days.
But as far as my grandpa was concerned?
Never.
I never had a bad day.
He helped me see the good
In everything,
Because to him,
My life was sweet,
Busy, social, Christ-centered,
And innocent.He's dead now.
I have a hard time
Wanting to be social.
I feel a lot colder than I used to.I'm scared it's adulthood,
I hope it's the grief.09/01/23
YOU ARE READING
[ p o e t r y 2]
PoetryVolume II of my life's poetry work As with my first volume, these poems contain snippets of my life and my strongest emotions. Here I have opened my soul up to be read.