writing poems
when you are in mourning
is easy
as your soul pours
itself onto
the page iterating
and reiterating
the pain
that runs like a film
on a never-ending loop
in your mind
forced into the background
sometimes
forcing itself into your
every conscious moment
other times
and there is always
in the very corner
of your heart
that tugging
of loss
of that
it-will-never-be-again
©Beatrix Brockman
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