When Grief Hits I’m ...

 Ranting and wretched. 
My grief needs to be heard
and heard,
and heard again,
needs time with tears
and snot. 

It’s not delicate or pretty. 
It’s not predictable or well timed;
It is about time lost
not to be regained.
Time with the one
who is lost, absent,
no longer here,
erased, except 
for the yearning time.