THE GRIEF IS NEVER ENDING BUT SO IS LOVE

Written by Harley, one of our poetry writers, and edited by Shraddha, one of our editors!

I like the tenderness we attach to one another. Meaning, if I am twenty-three minutes from hurling all of Demi’s strawberry wine in the toilet, it’s okay. I planned to steal the porcelain blue bottle we thrifted last week. It has a home on my bookshelf, filled with daisies, collecting dust.

I don’t think you can steal from the people you love.

Or, maybe you can. but I’ve never been quite interested in his boyfriend, or the money someone leaves on their desk. I feel like I’ve been convinced that there is something transactional with the way you love someone, as if you’re just waiting for the day that the pin drops and you need to salvage the wreckage.

You see, I didn’t realize I got to choose this. Not all of my poems have to be about the end of the world. Perhaps the opening lines of this poem were too visceral. I liked the matcha tea we made in the morning, the glass bottle in my bag. I haven’t realized that these are the most sublime moments in my life.

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This piece was written by one of our poetry columnists, Harley. Reach him at @ha.rleyn, on Instagram!

This piece was edited by one of our editors, Shraddha. Reach her at @shraddhagulati_ on Instagram!

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