The Four Tasks of Mourning 1 – Grief

The nights stand to be a little warmer.

July has come and gone and slowly the clouds crowd lower and darker over the rooftops of tall towers.

I remember, there were more people here. There are new stores in paths I frequented in a time long long ago.

I don’t even know what I missed, just that there’s a sad realization that things have changed and time can’t be taken back.

The rain stands to be a little longer.

The simmer of the earth smells dank and muddy over the teeming of lands left barren. There are no trees here anymore, not like from where i came from.

The colors swirl with the odors, turning blacks into blands of browns and yellows.

The days turn to grays and the nights turn ultraviolet.

The rain hides most things from view. Low to zero visiblity over giant raindrops that fall over asphalt laden faces.

People stand to be a little happier.

All there seems to be are polite smiles that want to cradle you like this helpless little soul.

Getting looks like you’re lost and need to be brought home.

Home is where the heart is.

Hearts are somewhat harder to come by nowadays, at least on this side of town.


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