the wretched

grief

is a wretched thing

 

it'll cut in different places

reopen forgotten wounds

rehash old conversations

compete with older sorrows

 

it'll stir a war of storms

where tears of pain and loss

and tears of scorn and rage

appear to run as one

 

so as to claim priority

my heartbreak has to scream

to guarantee its room

inside my burning house

 

i know that pain is pain

and memories can't be tiered

but i resent that pain by you

takes so much of my time

 

i had loved ones pass away

my grief has been compounded

because you broke my heart first

i'm hurting more than i must

 

it's wrong of me to cry about you

when the dead deserve my tears

it's wrong you've only showed yourself

in the worst of my bad dreams

 

even there, you are not sorry

even there, you do not stay

in the rare ones where you do

it's always brief before you leave

 

how a month can rob a year

and a kiss can steal a joy

how a fool can have me bleeding

more than a nail into a coffin

 

i have become selfish in grief

crying just as much for the buried

hurting just as much for the taken

as i do because of you

 

like you took all of my first's

you took my obligations

you took my right to mourn

you stole my deepest freedom

 

i deserve to hurt for more than you

to unfreeze our slice of time

to be free from our stupid moment

tend to the cries waiting in line

 

you

are a wretched thing.