A Constant Ache
How do I get accustomed to this constant ache?
This stinging chest?
A longing I will never get used too.
A loss of language to describe my suffrage.
How do I go on? Learn to re-live?
Without him. Without him.
Reality seems too harsh, his ground too cold, his grave marker too solid, and his absence too loud.
How do I get accustomed to this constant ache?
Someone tell me!
Actually don’t even try, its an unanswerable question, any attempt is only a greater insult.
We should never get accustomed, never get used to tragedy, sadly now every step out into the real world I cringe with anticipation. Just waiting for more, no longer expecting favor, no more welcoming of goodness.
I now suit up, I grab every piece of armor I own, just to make it to the mailbox.
What do I do to guard what is broken on the inside?
