The Shape Of Grief

Grief is not a thunderclap…
It’s the silence after
The kind that hums in the walls
And follows you into the kitchen

It folds your clothes in a half-light
It waits with you at red lights
Slips into your coffee like sugar
But never sweet

Grief is a slow inheritance
Of days without
The shape of someone
Etched into air

Some days, it’s a hand on your shoulder
Others, a stone in your chest
But always, always
It teaches you how deep love goes

You learn to breathe around it
Set a place for it at your table
Watch it become
Less shadow, more story

And still…
Some part of you
Never stops listening
For footsteps that no longer come