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I Wanted to Tell you this Flower but the Lightning had already left its Scars

Grief affects relationships endlessly. All of them. For some, the tenuous nature of connection asserts itself. For others, a numbness ensues, a shielding. The quick open bursts of weeping & vulnerability can be stoppered by a dry detachment in which nothing means like it used to. The lost held in their distances from which they jab & jag out at you, erratically, surprisingly and devastate. Then who will hold you & not judge is what you seek. The flower that was in the mouth looks down into ruins and the petals it once talked fall silently past the rivulet-skin, the mind’s abysses. Elegy is excess and also, it is the way to repeat: I cannot access you anymore no matter what sounds are uttered, what words etched.