Caustic Bereavement
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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Recollecting moments when I couldn't cry, not even silently.
A bereft heart filled to capacity without an outlet for my tears.
Always tearing and causing me to be ripped apart tumultuously in stairwells of caustic bereavement.
Jouncing around, not coming up with anything relevant to describe
each phase, as it's encompassed in lightened knowledge of particular puzzles.
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