“Its ok to be sad” they’ll tell you,
The whispers of, “you can cry for now”
“You’ll move on, you’ll feel better soon”
Those are the words they whisper to you,
when you’ve finally lost it all.
They don’t tell you about the mania,
The polar opposites of the waves of pure numb,
and the complete self - destructive need to feel something again.
They don’t tell you about the guilt,
The self assurance and the blame.
They don’t tell you how you’ll feel like a broken lock,
how violating it is to be broken into.
They’ll never tell you about the disconnect,
About how you’ll look in the mirror,
and not even recognise your own shattered features.
All you’ll see,
in every fibre of yourself.
Is her.
They don’t tell you about the tide of moving on,
The always ebbing and flowing tide of hurt and fine,
Of tears and and finality.
Of how someday you could hold a conversation,
Even a smile.
And on other days just the ever consuming waves of her,
Makes you want to die.
Maybe they don’t tell you,
Because its better to be unawares.
Of how the day and weeks, turn into months and years.
Of how time and space tend to stand still,
When you’ve lost your reason, to be present at all.
Thats what they don’t tell you, about losing it all.