Grief in Silence

I get to grieve.
Twisted in the chords of
a broken hallelujah
and mourning the loss
of me.
I try to weave the words
that find solutions.
Change.
A different path.
But still I suffocate
in the reality of my life
without you.
I get to grieve.
Mouth covered and pulled
six feet under,
buried in the ground
with our tomorrow.
I try to weave the words
that draw out hope.
Healing.
A new line of vision.
But still my chest
heaves helplessly for air
you’ve stolen.
I get to grieve.
And someday so will you.
We both lost
the moment you
went silent.