i held her
like a gravedigger
clutching a shovel
she was rigid
and
i knew
she would leave blisters
even on my calloused hands
still i held her
like a gravedigger
clutching a shovel
to dig his own grave
and
i knew
deep down
six feet
part of me would die
from holding her
but i’m just the gravedigger
not a philosopher
not a writer
not a lover
death
is my job
so i held her
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
I love this piece!
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there is something to it in the longing and ache
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Damn. Wow. Yeah. Really good.
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you know how sometimes you just see something in your head and try and grasp it but it escapes you? this is one of those.
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I absolutely DO know that feeling. Regardless of whether you ultimately captured what you wanted… it was still a great read for me.
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And after everything that is all that matters. If I deleted everything I felt didn’t turn out I would post once a month. Maybe. Probably not that often.
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EXACTLY!!!
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