Loss is a language I’m fluent in.
Its syllables rush forth with martial precision.
Phonetic legions of metered chaos
Lay siege to my soul.
Destroying all that I am.
Limiting what I may be.
Loss
Acerbic phrases draining my essence.
Channeling all pain, all purpose…
A collecting pool of miasma.
Drowning with resigned clarity…
Into emptiness.
Into nothingness.
Loss
Deborah Harvey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/loss-36/
