Grieving something not so lost
I think I’ve always been stuck in grief, I could grieve my birth from my first birthday.
I may have been, but if that is so, I am grieving still.
When the end reaches you a bit too fast you suddenly can’t reason yourself out of grief,
Because logic doesn’t form sadness into innocence anymore, and you don’t dare dream of relief.
I hold so much emotion, carrying myself with aggression excluding anger something beside rage,
A subtle feeling that stills my movement stumbling backwards into life as I age.
Throwing forward punches with thrill that lands on no saviour to the plaphur of my existence does shatter,
Following forth to the ground of good stead falling through the air to the latter.
Existence doesn’t suffice for living in this reality that my pupils too blown to replace,
A thrill, a feeling, a forgetful encounter something I wished to forever chase.
My heart does beat but in my body doesn’t feel for the emotion my mind whirls may control,
A thunder of wake meets my body still as a death engulfs my being whole.
I don’t shiver, I didn’t speak not since the remittance of your soul does reap,
A killing, a purge of my heart driven track seeking the survival your own does lack.
I do not weep, do not wither under the disappearance of sun,
Your feel connect river no longer walk does run.
Guilt carried through death in a way many fail to understand true,
Heart does not quiver at the feel of ghost you.
Copyright © Phoebe Ellis | Year Posted 2026
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