There are griefs that do not earn flowers and still rearrange your bones. Nothing dramatic happened and somehow everything changed anyway. The hardest part is how ordinary it looks from the outside. I am grieving a future that slowly disappeared while I was busy being responsible. I miss being easier to find inside my own day. There are days it feels like my life kept going but my inner weather did not get the memo. It is a lonely thing to grieve what other people call a phase. I miss being easier to find inside my own day.
For the thing that died without a funeral