the tiny murmur in my heart

became a troubling whisper, the whisper

grew to be a wail until the wail became a very loud moan;

the moan reminds me that you are no longer here; the tourniquet has

stilled the spill ’round my grieving heart, yet has done nothing to remove the memory

of you from my pounding, achy head, so i will write and write another day until

the very loud moan becomes a wail, and the insufferable wail softens

into a whisper, and the disquieting whisper once again becomes

a tiny murmur, then there will be nothing but silence to

remind me that you are no longer here

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Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash