Writers Jam

Grief for the living is a deceitful thing to experience. I value you now for all the things that i didn’t even realise you were here for. I forget that when I lose you, im not only losing the good days but also the ones that might justify this grief, instead of wishing it out of existence. I’m not glad that you’re gone but there must be a past self of mine that is not too opposed by this event.

I remember the times when I found you knocking at my door, asking me questions that no one else could ever ask, but Im also at the door with the remembrance of you leaving even though you promised me that you would not. I don’t lock the door anymore, cause I know you wouldn’t try to get it in; you left the keys with me a long time ago.

I’m at the door but I’m not clinging to it anymore.