Some of us don't grieve out loud some things some things you just cant put voice to counting the passage of hours into days with averted glances that hide ever filled eyes bodies folded around the kind of aching that wakes before you do ever present at the edge of the edge of everything everything the way we skirt conversation just sort of hard to keep up when everything is spinning too fast but somehow moving in slow motion what do you say when you just know one breath too m