Grief is forever. It doesn't go away; it becomes part of you, step for step, breath for breath.
I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes when the grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.
How can the word love, the word life, even fit in the mouth?
It's as if someone vacuumed up the horizon while we were looking the other way.
I've no use for talking, would just as soon store paper clips in my mouth.