Prose Poetry/Flash Fiction: Small Grief

I try to make my grief small, so no one else knows it’s there. I smile and I breathe deeply when I feel my eyes water, and even though my heart is palpitating, I make sure you understand that my grief is my own, and no one else can have it.

You made your grief small, too. You put it in a little box inside your heart and you pretended like the box never opened, never moldered, never unhinged. You put a smile on that only stretched your face and never reached your eyes and your grief hid, scared. You felt it, all the time, pawing at the sides of your heart-shaped box, and you tried not to grimace when you were asked about your day, or how you’re holding up, or when you get to go home.

I never get to go home, you would think. Soon, you would say.

I make my grief small. I’m accused of not feeling, of being delusional, of being in denial. No one knows that when I’m alone, my grief grows and lights up and fills the whole room, casting everything in blue. No one knows that when I’m alone, my grief is dense as foam and pure, brown sand, and shoving through it is a task I have never been able to muster the strength to complete.

I make my grief small, even though I shouldn’t. I make my grief small, and force it into a space that won’t hold it forever. I make my grief small, and smile through your funeral.

You made your grief small, too.

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Comments
4 Responses to “Prose Poetry/Flash Fiction: Small Grief”
  1. Why wasn’t I expecting that? Reading it again I feel as if it should have been obvious. I must have got too caught up in the beautiful way you write.

  2. ladykelacy says:

    Beautifully written. The last two paragraphs really tie the whole thing together nicely.

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