Grief is a black dress.
The same black dress I drenched in grief twice.
Once wasn't enough to drown me.
But just enough to weigh me down.
Grief is the ugly funeral home carpet.
You just can't stand that ugly, sad, angry carpet.
But you can't change it either.
It's not your home.
I wear grief like my favorite lipstick.
Applying it in the mirror,
Carefully and skillfully.
I wipe away the messy edges.
When it fades, I apply more.
I do it so often, my face does not look the same without that lipstick.
And others tell me that too.
Grief and I are best friends.
I walk not in Griefs shadow, but with it.
Hand in hand we face life together.
Always there, always there.
And even though Grief is all of those things.
It's a little black dress.
On a little girl.
Looking into a little plot.
That stole her little world.
YOU ARE READING
For A Dreary Day
PoetryPoems that might make you think, might confuse. Poems that only I, the creator, can use. Poems for good days, poems for bad. Poems that you might think are rad (even though some might be sad) Some crazy things are written so beware. Quite strange, q...
