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Alphabet Soup

A Poem about Grief

By Michelle Truman | Prose and Puns | Noyath BooksPublished 2 years ago 2 min read
Alphabet Soup
Photo by Sigmund on Unsplash

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for

Beyond this place, there be dragons.

Cold are the corners of my mind, dire warnings on signs and

Deep are the fears that keep me rooted in place.

Each step is a cacophony, a symphony of sound that echoes

Filling me with despair as the

Giant stirs in its slumber behind glass walls.

Healthy? What does that even mean?

I haven't been healthy in years, but I

Joke about the pain to

Keep it quiet, sedated, sleeping in its coffin

Lest it wake, ravenous, and swallow me whole.

Many mornings, noons, and

Nights, I lurk. I hide, still and silent, in the shadows

Of my own decrepit, crumbling

Psyche. The safety of the

Quiet is my sanctuary, my only

Refuge from the monster that lurks within.

Speak not its name! Don't even spell it out.

To call upon it could send me reeling into an

Uncontrollable spiral, but I was never

Very good at being quiet, anyway.

Would you believe that

Xylophones make terribly noisy tiles for a floor? Even if

You tiptoe, light and breezy like a

Zephyr, a melody escapes to wake the grief.

You're gone. The memories invade like

Xenogenic ghosts shattering the glass

Walls I've built up so carefully.

Voracious, driven by a need to consume,

Unanswered and unanswerable questions

Take up all the space in my mind I was

Saving for new memories. They

Rip me apart, reminding me why I must learn to

Quiet my mind before there's nothing left.

Pieces of my tattered heart float around the space

Once the monster has feasted on your

Name and the pain of it resting upon

My lips. Sated and satisfied, the monster

Lies down in the wreckage and returns to its slumber.

Keeping to the shadows, I gather the tatters

Just enough to function and then

I get to work sewing them back together.

Heaps of glass and stone are

Gone, replaced with walls and windows by morning.

First light finds the monster gone and the rubble reconstructed.

Even so, the fight is never over. Not really.

Don't mistake a sleeping monster for a dead one. These

Crumbling halls are inhospitable, and you'd do well to stay away.

Beyond this place, there be dragons, so

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

heartbreaksad poetry

About the Creator

Michelle Truman | Prose and Puns | Noyath Books

I fell in love with speculative fiction and poetry many years ago, but I have precious little time to write any. It was high time I started making Prose and Puns a priority, starting with Purple Poetry, Auqredis, and the World of Noyath.

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Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  3. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

  3. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (1)

  • Gina C.2 years ago

    Wow!! This is so amazing. Very real and so many emotions. Also, it took me a minute to figure out what you were doing with the alphabet, but when I saw it I was like 🤯 Excellent job!

Michelle Truman | Prose and Puns | Noyath BooksWritten by Michelle Truman | Prose and Puns | Noyath Books

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