Leech

Written after losing my mother

This pain.
This searing pain.
It is dependable.
It is reliable.
It is almost predictable.
Because I know it.

I know its mind and it's movements.
Its plains and patterns.
I know it intimately.

It is my own.

It is fierce and crowding.
It comes at me with gale-force strength.
It guns me down,
It overtakes me.
It strikes head on.
It is unmerciful.

It is deep and razor sharp.

It is dull and aching.

It is constant and continuous.

It is a leech.