I don’t know what’s worse
to yearn for the grim reaper
or
discover the emotion
behind the ache
disappeared
I write this for
the part of me
I’ve mourned and lost
the part of me
that sensed the murkiness
and opted for another option
the possibility of hope
the fire exists
I don’t agonize
over the deaths
of those
who are ever present
spirits as I breathe
I weep for the tiny part
of me that used to scribe letters
to myself
not my future
or
my past
but
the self that resides
in real time
I am
a sheet of paper
the universe permits
me to utilize earth’s charcoal
to write something
whimsical
silly
or
morose
to remind me
I no longer desire
to grieve the letters
I so dramatically burned
and with the ashes, I compose
the depth
of the unvarnished
truth
Inspired By Anna Mazzotta, Mourning Letters
Data Girl's Rabbit Hole 
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