They say time fills the void that grief brings 

That life becomes easier and we are supposed to feel comfort in knowing that the emptiness and the pain weaken their grips around our throats 

How happy we should be to allow these to pass 

But I would rather the emptiness fill me like a garden hose in an Olympic pool and the pain dull like an open break sealed with bandaids 

And when they ask me why 

I tell them dead in their faces 

That the emptiness and the pain are more bearable than knowing 

I forget the sound of his voice that grounded my being and I forget the way my skin bumped when he touched me 

And that I'll forget the smell of his favorite cologne melting into his skin and I won't ever feel my heart race the same as when I looked into his eyes

I tell them that the antagonizing deprivation of all senses of him is even greater a loss than they could comprehend

And I tell them the next time they choose to speak their so called comforts to think twice before they exit their mouths

For they will always remember what another will also begin to forget.