“The Weight of Quiet”
Grief does not shout.
It slips in through the seams—
in the pause before a name,
in the chair that’s still pulled out.
It doesn’t cry every day.
Some days it just sits beside you,
silent, heavy,
like a bag you forgot you were carrying.
People say time heals,
but time only teaches you
how to hold the ache
without spilling.
You still reach for the phone.
Still think, “They’d laugh at this.”
And then remember—
and feel the room pull away.
Grief is not a storm.
It’s a low sky that never clears.
It lets in light,
but never quite let's go.
- lovandfear