In a Swell of Mourning
The sunset sets with passion a palette
of solstice, fire, and goldenrod
glean my grief with brute force with a mallet.
Nub of anger and tears bind while thorns prod.
It looks to take possession of my heart,
sharp, jagged, stabbing, cutting off feeling
leaving me cold and callous set apart
from truth I'm so desperately reeling.
Despite efforts to change it won't withdraw
allowing me to breathe life and be whole.
I fleetingly forget the pleasing awe
as he used to skim and feast on my soul.
It has no ending; it won't let me go;
I am dragged off into its undertow.
1/1/2019
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