Dear Grief,

I see you have chosen my heart as your temporary residence. I can feel you tending to the garden of your new home: digging into the soil, squeezing the dirt with your worn calloused hands. I trust that with every painful scoop of earth you dig out of me you will plant a seed. A mysterious seed that will blossom into something I have not yet earned the right to see.

I have grown weary of fighting you so let us instead be friends. You plant the seeds and I will do the rest. My tears are the rain. My anger, the sun. My sighs, the air.

Let us create something beautiful.

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