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I want to embrace the graceful beauty of this crippling pain, doll it up with flowery words of hurt like a teenager’s poem full of angst.

Oh, to make this broken heart sound  bittersweet, rather than merely bitter.  Once I was good at such things; writing lovely words of agony and making it all seem nearly stunning.

I flow through descriptive words, sweet similes, atypical analogies, mystical metaphors…

No!  None fit. They can’t even reach the jagged edges no matter how tautly I stretch and contort them.

His smile was beautifully bright and constant.  His laughter was infectious to epidemic proportion.  His love was limitless, vast, and deep.  His will was steely strong.  His faith was relentlessly solid.  His hope was contagious.

The loss of him is a nasty bloody gnash; a massive black void; a fearful scream from the soul which won’t release.

It is simply not beautiful.

 

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