There is an expiry date on grief,
Especially a while after an expiry date.
Nobody asks after you after a while,
So what do you do if the feelings come back, just a little late?
Anything can become a trigger—
A memory, a mannerism, even a shirt.
And your mood changes so fast,
It’s like the fan rushed up to hit the dirt.
You try and remind yourself
That the dead are never truly gone.
But you don’t really need reminding of that,
Seeing them constantly in your thoughts that loop and play on and on.
You feel alone in a way words can’t describe,
And you try to find others to fill all that space.
Futile efforts and unfair expectations,
Until you realise nobody can really take their place.
You just try and find peace within.
The strength to let go comes when you realise
That they become part of your story,
Just out of the reach of your eyes.
They live on in the ways they’ve touched you,
In the way you live and the things you do.
And one day you’ll try and pass on what you got from them,
And hope you’ll be remembered a little bit too.
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