The Strength of Spikes

I am alone, grief is better that way. An embrace would soothe me, would heal me, but today I am made of spikes. Memories endlessly mix with sorrow and guilt turning my heart inside out, and just when I think I am going to become a river, I am solid once again.

Weeks of uncertainty, the dread in every call; the unexpected loss; the terror in the fragility of the ones I love. Pretend strength becomes real strength somehow, and the spikes fulfill their purpose, they keep me all to myself, and I can breathe, and cry, and hope; and I can also forget.

I can only hide behind those spikes today, I am fearful of disasters if I don't. I am still solid today...