Grief

I am my grief’s mother

Her caretaker when affliction cauterizes her rationality

I lend her the side of the bed I sleep on most.

I am my grief’s sister

With my harrowed suggestions of apathy

I’ve been there too soon to detach from her misery.

But never have I been her friend

I am a confidante comprised of reluctance 

My acropolis, a pillow fort

I cross-examine her until I forget what she looks like

I no longer even remember her name