Grief and I are long-time lovers
I keep a spare toothbrush in the bathroom
for when she slips into bed with me
unannounced, though I often know
when to anticipate her presence
Enveloping my body and mind,
she knows how to coax the most
ragged, broken breath from my chest
She reminds me that I am not dying,
only loving history hard enough
that it feels like time is stopping short
Grief seems prepared for a long-term stay, this time
She even brought extra toothbrushes-
more packs than I care to count