Grief made a home in the body that once was my shelter;
I felt her ripping my guts
Gnawing at my bones
Grasping my heart in her slimy tail
Compressing my lungs
Until only a miniscule pocket of air remained.
Now grief has slithered out of me
And feeds on the body of another victim.
When she first left I felt hollow.
Devoid.
Blank and barren.
Though vicious,
Grief had been reliable
Always there
Steadfast
True.
Now in her absence
All that remains
Are torn guts
Decaying bones
A crumpled heart
Smashed lungs
And a longing to fill the empty space.
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