A Higher Stage of Grief

I refused it, denied it,
absolutely decried it,
this could never happen to me.

How dare he? The nerve!
I hope he gets what he deserves:
an evil witch as ugly as can be.

Is it true that we are done?
No way this can be spun
into a happy ending where he is mine?

My world is ashen and bleak.
I no longer eat or sleep or speak.
I just cry and weep and sob and bawl and pine.

These are the pieces of my life now.
Well, almost all of them, anyhow.
Slowly I will build myself up again.

Having been there, and done that,
having on my face fell flat,
I do think that I’ve learned a lot from pain.

But there’s no way this was my fault,
I am innocent by default.
One day he’s gonna pay for what he’s done.

If only he’d given us a chance,
my life would still have true romance,
we’d be two instead of far and lonely ones.

Terence Tuhinanshu

Terence Tuhinanshu

poet. thinker. designer. developer. citizen of the world.
Philadelphia