Getting better slowly,
And I get it now.
Grief is wanting to be better.
To never forget
And to be scared that if life,
Cruel as it is,
Could be good again once they’re gone…
That you were never the friend you thought you were.
I have punished myself for your death
In more ways than I had hoped.
But no matter how much I try to be okay
There will always be that voice yelling
LIFE WAS BETTER WITH YOU IN IT
Because it was.
And now I have the task of trying to make it better without you.
And
I
Don’t
Want
To.
