The armour of griefShields hearts from overburden; But, donned for too long,Becomes what he sought to thwart:Deprivation of belov’d. Three olives, dirty,Vermouth merely opened near:Just how she liked it.Absence won’t prevent our toast –The soil delivers her drink. Darkness once scared meBased on what I couldn’t see.Yet now I’m seekingWhat nothingness slowly takes;Death’s embrace: treasuresContinue reading “Phases”