She’s gone.
She’s gone… not like gone to the store or, to see a friend, or gone shopping, or out to eat or on a vacation or, or, or, or… or
She’s gone. Just… … .. .
gone.
She won’t come back.
She’s always come back. Sometimes, late or happy or blue or tired, or weary, or with an attitude.. but, she came back.
I expected her to always come back.
Of course, you know they take leave before you — s’pose to…
but not your momma… she’s suppose to always be there… she's gotta come back or, I won’t know who’s out there that really knows me, or, that I can trust, hate, love beyond words, look to for approval, be eternally angry at, be better than, measure myself by, rage against… depend on..
she can’t come back this time… she won’t.
and… who am I?
Tips and articles to help with grieving:
