Surface Ripples

There’s a certain taste to it
A spice thats too much for any rational palate
The kind of seasoning that ruins a dish.

Its grief.

There’s nothing quite like it
Corrosive poison cycling through your heart
The kind of stuff that silently kills

You’re grieving

And nothing anyone says captures it
The sheer monstrosity of drowning in pain
Sinking below the surface of ‘alright’
Thrashing,
Struggling,
Gasping for relief
So a hand stretches to the dwindling light
As hope whimpers its final breaths

–

Then a hand breaks the surface
And grabs yours.