Trigger Warning
Grief is mean and unbecoming
A cockroach in the light
It scurries away
When you need it most
Expected and unsuspecting
Vile and distrustful
It perches above me
An ancient owl
Elusive and tangible as the Blue Rose
A Rose that grows and grows and grows
When healthy and watered
Until it drowns and suffocates
From the Sky’s fears
The sun will come out
And dry up all the rain
Then cook you on a desert rock
Too parched to scream.
Too screamed to remember
The last look. The last words.
Ashes to ashes. Sand to Sandman.
Dream for one last drop of rain.