The shape of grief.

 The shape of grief. Drawing Luke Hockley.

The shape of grief. Drawing Luke Hockley.

Dear Self,

Grief is a strange shape.

Hiding between the cracks of the every day.

Slipping between the sheets of a sleepless night.

Clinging to the edges of an unwashed plate.

Angry on the pointed edges of an unfinished day.

A list of anticipation and expectation.

An unnamed headache.

It lacks reason. It doesn’t try to make sense.

An invisible weight I carry each day.

My grief is strange shape,

impossible to hold.

Love

Luke

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Day 806