Grief is a hollow feeling, empty, gaping,
white, allowing every colour to pass through,
not retaining comfort from anyone, in any hue,
like a creeper that grows slowly, it leans on you
rests gently, hugging fresh crevices the heart brews,
usurping healing from the warm corners of light
ravenous appetite, blanketing, offers no respite,
until one day, it succumbs to fragrant cries
that sprout all over and subsume its might,
bring solace to your endless sentence,
spurring you on the journey of acceptance.
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