Grief

My mothers gone

I hate grief.
The thief of joy.
The sudden out of the blue
Reminder that she’s gone.
The realizations
The only way I’ll hear
her laugh or her voice
Are in the recordings
That my brother
So lovingly keeps.
Or behind my eyelids
In my dreams when she wins
And she cheats.
Counting cards.
I’m packing up
The last of her nick nack cats
and my heart
it aches
And bleeds down my sleeve
And i just want to lay my head in her lap
As she runs her beautician hands
Through my hair
reminding me i need a trim.
I miss her combing my ears like she used to
When she would cut my hair.