Loss by Lizzie Purvis

It was a sort of relief when she died,
We saw her just, sort of, slip away,
We knew what the future held then
And I knew neither of us were afraid.
Because we had faced our biggest fear already,
Watching her die in her bed,
An there was noting for us left to worry about
Except, of course, how to live now she was dead.

Artwork by Harriet Rollit

Want more? We recommend A note on the empty promise of summer

Nah, time for Prose

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