Complicated Grief

I wish
I had
my
lighthouse
to
guide
me
again.

Since
she
died,
I've
lost
my
way,
and my
world
has
become
rain
with no
umbrella,
jagged,
like a paper
diorama,
fluttering
in the
wind.

Complicated Grief

But the
worst
thing,
the
absolute
worst
thing
is that
I
can't
find
where
my
mother,
my
lighthouse,
my
way
home,
put
the
damn
key
to
the
cellar
door.

I
really
wanted
to
bury
her
down
there.

Complicated Grief