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I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe. Jandy Nelson

What I scribe assists and soothes the pain.
Conceal my thoughts and jam in my silence.
A sense of agony overwhelms you to complain. 
Hardships from upshots or few guidance.
And the sorrow of collapse wager plain.

I cannot let wend my frozen dreams.
It filled my ego with scars from the past.
steadily nagging me, or so it seems.
It filled the vacuum with a mournful cast.
Delight fades away as smoke streams.

Spirits forth from might speak as a rancor.
Yet, nothing helped ease my sadness.
I suck in poison and crush out the clanger.
sick with grief, bearing with his madness.
Allow for the capture of whacks in anger.

The pause is broken, and the repeat is endless.
bleeding wounds, bringing eternal death.
Leave juicy tears of joy alone and friendless.
If you breathe in thickly, gasp your last breath.
My glimpse, soiled by each blink, was restless.

I retain moving forward and looking back.
Smile and laugh through the loneliness.
Lay my spirit on the soil, on a one-way track.
Write the facts again, hope for the wilderness.
Colors explode in a somber, limitless crack.

Return me to the realm betwixt eternal life.
Deny the facts that bind me afar of sight.
At this point, my lifeless face is blind to strife.
Thumps cry; all is gone; admit it; adopt flight.
Life's seed was lost at sea as a clasping knife.

Written: January 28, 2023

Writing Challenge - B Word Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

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