Every death brings me back to you.
On the grief.
Apr 17, 2026 · 1 min read
I didn’t release your ashes to the wind,
didn’t leave flowers at your headstone,
neither did I bury you
under the family sixth generational oak.
Do not mistake these things for my lack
of love for you.
I was never delivered your body, nor ashes,
nor any meaningful resemblance of you.
All I received
was a bruised heart and tear stained cheeks,
alone, in the parking lot of the grocery store.
Thank you for the encouragement Murdered By Crows
Image: krxhck on Unsplash
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Comments (2)

Murdered by Crows3d ago
This is amazing. I can’t imagine The agony. What feels like erasure… I hope it subsides, And more selfishly, I hope you keep writing Until it heals.
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