Grief is a beautiful mask,
Crafted for each man's taste
The mask is the body,
The mask is the soul,
The mask fills in
the empty crevices of the heart
Grief is a placeholder,
What could be,
What has been,
What was,
And, why was it?
Grief is a melody,
Grief is the footsteps,
Soft and together,
A hand on your shoulder
Grief is the slow, silent night
The sea shore on the rock,
The lonely drives with tears clouding sight
It is also the hopeful mornings,
Conversations that bring to fore,
And keep alive the buried past
Grief is the lonesome wanderings,
Looking out for a kindred spirit
It is the search for meaning,
And the search for an ending
Grief is the dream of a dawn,
It triggers that shot in the dark,
Locked in with life on stake,
The future is but a gamble
But this grief that changes forms,
Is there anyone who's able to resist its knocks?
Not long enough, not forever,
One day, it might knock on your doors, too.
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PuisiJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
