The grief is palpable.

It smells like chocolate.  It tastes like cigarettes.  It looks like a wedding ring.

It threatens to overwhelm me, consume me.  I can’t breathe.

It is love, hate, lust.  An orgasm…shuttering through me.  I can’t breathe.

It is a smile with languid eyes–when you used to smile.

It is an angry voice shouting at me and then a shattered voice apologizing.

The grief is an “I love you” that is heartfelt and deep with desire.  It is the feeling of you inside me, on me, all around me.

It is your rough hands stroking my skin, your husky voice telling me how soft I feel to you.

It is your rough hands shaking me until I bruise under them.  Your enraged voice hurtling insults at me.

Grief is me pulling away from you.  It is my tears and your tears.  It is my fear and your bitterness.  It is utter devastation that never, ever goes away.

It is loss.