The Goodness of Grief

There was no one here.

I wish I had been.

It's the vortex of time.

The momentum of memory.

The core of the story.

The images they all seem to cloud.

The words they get stuck in my mouth.

The smell never could really get out.

It's what I was left with.

It's all I could see.

I learned to adapt to it.

Never did quite set it free.

It became a part of me.