Grief's Sonnet (NaPoWriMo2025 Day 26)

A sonnet poem

If only poetry could stitch grief shut,
I'd always be lurking in its hallways.
My soul washed in the blood of my regret,
I want words to rescue me from this blaze.

Every time poetry tries to reach me,
my grief grows around me like a balloon.
So I bulldoze language into the sea,
clothing myself in an eternal swoon.

I wear his absence like a second skin,
attracting darkness. Will this ever stop?
If what I had with him was called a sin,
I wouldn't be harvesting this grief crop.

Someday I would receive all the answers,
so that I don't contact necromancers.

hayaathi