Grief is like the glitter projects you would make as a child.
You would put it so neatly
Just at the edge of the line
So that nothing spilled,
Or stained your pretty clothes.
And you would be so proud
That it was perfect.
But then you would stare down at your hands
And realise that the glitter was smothering your skin,
Cutting here and there,
Begging to see you bleed.
The glitter on the page
Too would begin to spread,
And that is grief.
It slips through the moments,
The insignificant ones
Where you’re sitting at your desk
And suddenly a single word on your screen
Encages your heart with
A reminder of them.
So you let the ground swallow you.
Memories will flick through your crumpling mind,
Growing like the tomatoes they had in their garden.
And you will spend hours
Upon hours,
Picking these tomatoes,
Negotiating for just one more,
Just one.
Knowing that the pain gnawing at your bones will only worsen,
Knowing that your makeup will carve lines on your cheeks,
The same cheeks they had.
You’ll get distracted,
You’ll let your mind wander and think that they’ll get to see you
In a cap and gown,
That they’ll get to see you grow your own tomato trees,
That they’ll be there when your own body is no longer enough to support you.
Or you will be sitting in a bar with your friend,
Fixated on a point of the sticky floor
But it’ll just bring you back to
That glitter ripping your heart into shreds
Whose blood encoats your lungs
Until you suffocate on this twisted form of love
That will always be for her.