once a sunshine shadow, now enriched with iridescence

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

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