Grief makes
the whole world
seem like a
burden.

Grief makes
the strongest of souls
weak
and tired.

But being
in situations
where you are not
allowed to grieve
makes the heart
ache
quietly.

You force a smile
to grace your lips
and light
to shine in your eyes,
but the light runs out,
the smile fades away.

And everything
and anything
you do
throughout the day
is mechanical.

"How are you?"
"I'm fine," you say,
because talking about it
is too hard,
and thinking about it
is too much
for the mind to handle.

Because you don't want
the burdens that
have taken up
the crevices
and cracks of your
broken heart
to bother the person
standing before you.

But grief isn't that polite,
it's intrusive,
rude,
relentless.

Grief is a monster
who claws at your chest,
rips out the things
that make you feel human,
and feeds on your happiness

Grief is hard,
and suppressing it only makes it worse.
The pain
is almost unbearable.

But grief isn't always lonely.
And grief isn't always there.