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the grief of loss
digs in deep
wedges between the joints
arthritis for the psyche
aching on good days
screaming “fuck you” on bad
hollowing out
the hollowed out part of you
who knew
there’d be so many
echoes
A hollowness
and an aching promise
of pain yet to come
If my temperature
runs lower than average
and then increases to the average temperature
this means I have fever
this means I am ill
this means I am ailing
Clammy hands are often
heated by a hot head
A hollowness
and an aching promise
of pain to come
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
Your Sympathies: