I

I hold grief close to me. Its shivering warmth and piercing cold melts itself into my chest. My body. My soul. It strips me of all I pretend to be. It leaves me a raw, bare, whimpering mess. Grief does not care. Yet I hold it as would a lover. I do not care either. Indefinitely, we hold onto each other. I am cosmically stuck. I am suspended in the midst of my world, holding my Grief close. My love.

II

I fuel my Grief. Feed it and share my warmth with it. I am a mother to my grief. After all, I am the one who birthed it. I watch my grief grow.
Who are you?

III - scars to heaven

self destruction brought us closer together
I think about it all the time
I miss it
YOUR LIFE IS PRECIOUS.

IV

Grief feels like home and it feels like me from long ago.