grief cracks,
like ice,
like glass.
Over time,
memories fade,
like a painting
left in the sun.
But we cling
to the grief,
to the memory,
because the heart
is treasonous
and wants
what it wants.
Over time,
the traitor heart
looses its grip,
memories fade,
grief slips away,
and we are left
with only the
vague impression
of loss.
Over time,
things get better,
even if the end of grieving,
feels like betrayal,
and tastes of ash.
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