The morning of summer infiltrated through haze
Tapping on windows and glimmering on painted walls,
But its beauty was an insult to what waited to be found.
Next to bed the cold could not help but sneak in
It was stiff, it was still, it was silent.
How can it be so sure?
How can glacial ambience sneak around a day
Just wishing to be like any other?
Denial is a default rightfully so.
How can we fall into the frigid and bitter arms
Of a nightmare?
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Cope
PoetrySometimes bad things happen to you. The world will not be writing you any sympathy cards. ▪️▪️▪️ I shuffle the stages of grief everyday.
