Ahhh, the sweet ache of loss.
When nothing fills the hole of absence.
Ache consuming every moment.
Death feels like it has a voice.
Saying it is time to join the damned.
At the feet of evil and the head of good.
No this will not keep holding up empty.
Finding a balance will dry tears.
This shell will be strong and complete.
Holding back deaths rage.
Quieting the spirit and winning the war.
May 14, 2015. © Becky Jo Gibson, All rights reserved