No Matter How Expected

I saw disease kill my mother like acid.
No matter how much the death expected, shock stains the grief.
It made me stupid. I brewed a cup of coffee, and put it in the fridge.

Those around who care can give resolve.
Even my stand-offish cat observed, and fussed me her affection.
Here. I know your pain. Let me help.

image: po

Dylan Harris
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it's my hands
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