Grief for something that didn’t die feels strange.
It hurts, but I get why she stayed out of range.
I spilled all my frustration, pain, and doubt,
In a firing squad of words, letting it all out.
The irony’s clear, and it cuts like a knife.
She wants the freedom of guns but not the strife.
She cringes when the bullets come her way,
But stands behind her rights every single day.
It stung how she made my feelings seem small,
Dismissing them, as if they mattered not at all.
I had to point out the elephant in the room,
A truth that had been growing in silent gloom.
Maybe what died wasn’t the bond we knew
But the belief that length of friendship could see us through,
That time could heal all wounds, and we’d be fine
When trust’s fragile threads unravel with time.
Kailani is an amateur writer. She writes for the love of writing. It is her sincerest form of expression—a way to put her wide-ranging ideas and life experiences into something cohesive. As a clinical therapist, she helps others find, listen to, and use their voice. And her writing is her voice. The world as she experiences it is her inspiration, and her love of personal flair fuels her style. She doesn’t think she’s to write the next great American novel, but she’s to write something. Stay curious.
Featured image by Jens Lelie on unsplash.
