Mourning as a Narcissist

by Alice   May 26, 2018


That pale morning in the mud,
we crowded round a chasm,
and in the darkness you did lie-
with cries many voices spasmed.

I stood rigid with blue-streaked hands,
half dead in my own pain.
No- it was not the strangle of your loss
but my inner choke of shame.

So, that pale morning in the mud,
steeped in cloud and gale,
like a racked tree of evergreen
I hid in my affliction stale.

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  • 5 years ago

    by CânnâBîsh

    You truly have a way with words. I honestly wish I could write this well. Words flowed right out and packed with much feeling.