I was foolish in my belief that grief was a straightforward thing. I thought the first wave would hit, and gradually the feelings of sadness and desperation would slip away until I found myself normal again. But I was so very wrong. Because grief is a complicated, ugly, messy thing. And it makes you do complicated, ugly, messy things.
Sometimes poetry is more about the feeling the words give you, the emotion, the placement, and not necessarily the words themselves. But the words are what you read. And you read the words to find the emotion, so the words do matter.
So there was nowhere. Nowhere that I belonged.