Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

Over Whelmed ……AGAIN?

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Will there be a time again, that I will again have five good days in a row?

To want to get out of bed.

To be excited about the new day.

All night, my mind was spinning again!

What will I do? Where will I go?

The season is upon us. The time when many get high on food and alcohol. I have spent too many days eating, trying to feed this feeling in my chest. Nothing sees to fill it. Alcohol is a bore and mischievous. It gives you a moment of feeling ok then puts you to sleep only to wake you up with the midnight madness filling your room. No amount of lights seem to rid this creepy crawly from following you around till dawn then your day is done. So alcohol is a bore and not to be trusted.

I think we should re introduce the waring of black or possibly all dark purple so everyone will know your in mourning. Not that you want to be centred out, only so you will not be imposed on.

Is it my inability of coping that this is lingering? 

I get so annoyed when I’m told “oh just be happy!” Like its merely a personal decision. These words come from someone that has never been a widow.

Are we special? hell no. But we are who we are and we certainly don’t need our feelings to be trivialized like that.

The mind explodes

The breath skips

The neck stiffens

The heart shrinks a bit more

Tightens like leather when soaked in tears

How will I live out my years

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Author: ilovecloudstoo

I live in Canada though​ I was not born here. Newfoundland is where my heart breathes. Primarily I am a visual artist, welded and or cast bronze sculptures. Sylvia Plath may have been the seed planted in me that is creating poetry. Since then I have read so many great modern poets work. Art is my sustaining business poetry sustains my soul.

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