the worry never stops, a heartbeat without ceasing

16.02.03

Tears run down my face
There is no control in it
whatsoever.
They just fell and dripped
and wreathed my eyes,
lashes beaded with salt.
I couldn't contain it and
it didn't matter
that people were looking,
maybe wondering.
"The widow is strong. She
came to church and it's
admirable that she can smile.

So what's her problem?"

My problem is that I don't know.
I'm confused.
I'm afraid of things,
and beyond that,
frightened to give voice
to my fears.
Vicious cycle.
The heaviness sits on my heart.
It is not my mourning,
but a part of me grieves anyway.

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