Loss

Loss is something I have grown accustomed to, something that I am of,

I am familiar with the experience and nearly expectant of its occurrence.

I have lost what I knew and never thought I’d lose and what I didn’t know of and never thought I’d miss.

 

I’ve lost those who I’d never thought I’d live without, and those who’s departure was ineffectual.

The losses that have truly affected me either act as motivation for improvement, or haunting reminders of what could have been.

There are ones that I wish I could have returned to me, and those that are better left where they were lost.

 

I remind myself with each loss that I cannot change what is fated, nor can I erase what has been set in stone.

Yet at times a new loss feels like the first, like my heart has been torn out to be kept with what is no longer here.

And these times I am no longer accustomed, aware, or familiar

Loss is then an ugly stranger with a lethal attack, the wake of which I doubt I’ll survive…

 

Until the next.