At the beginning I saw a different version of you.
I thought you were sweet.
I thought you were kind
I thought you will be the first man,
The first man to really love me.
I thought the only tears I would shed because of you,
Would be happy tears.
At the end I saw a different version of you.
You are cruel.
You are emotionless.
You are like every other man,
Another man that doesn't care about me.
The only tears im shedding because of you,
They are tears of betrayal and sadness.
Love me in another universe like you couldn't love me in this one.
~ER.
Where to put it, how to tame its insurmountable spirit.
How to sing it lullabies for my voice always crackles up.
How to call out its name without fearing the worst.
What to say to it when it comes running to me like a child.
What to whisper in its ears so as to soothe its wild nerves.
I know I can very well discard it, get rid of it forever, but if that would have been possible, i would not be writing this poem today titled, "what do I do with my grief"
I know not how it's so capable of being so alive when I, the harbourer, has died so many times.
Isn't this grief that I carry in my belly, my child?
If that's the case, it should have died long time ago.
But here it is, chuckling and stretching its limbs, looking at me with its endearing eyes, waiting to be picked up with utmost affection.