The Bereaved

You never know what it will be like--
     Faded photographs
     Edges peeling
     Browning memories
     Corners dissolving
     Ever lingering
     Withering--

You never know what it will be like
     Sand castles washed away with the ebbing tide
     Clam shells clamped shut
     Salty serum poured out
          Wasted
     and collected
     Pooled and sitting, waiting
          Stagnant
   
You never know what it will be like
     Flames and debris colliding
          --Exploding--
     Whirlwinds of fury
          Clashing, twisting
          Confusing
     Emptiness so intense
     Unfathomable
          Dark
     All-consuming
     Hurt
     Piled on thick until it forms a pit
          that sits, and sits, and sits, and sits
          and never goes away.

     The erosion.

     The silence.

     As if everything died
     Life, interrupted
     Corroded
     Corrupted
     Ceased

     Everything the same as ever
     But forever altered
          and that, irrevocable
     The stillness
     The numbness
     is the worst of all.

You never know what it will be like
Until, suddenly
you know.