I've learned to grieve in quiet tones,
In empty rooms, on silent phones.
To cry inside, where no one sees,
To fall apart with practiced ease.
They say I'm strong,
I nod and smile,
But grief has lived in me awhile.
It doesn't scream or wreck the place,
It simply settles on my face.
It's in the way I make my bed,
The way I choose my words instead.
It's in the coffee left half-cold,
In every story left untold.
They never see the weight I bear
Grief isn't loud when no one cares.
It's soft. It's slow. It doesn't shout.
It simply swells and carves me out.
I've lost people,
not to death, but choice.
I've lost myself
inside my voice.
Now when I speak,
it's tinted blue
A song of things I once held true.
Grief, for girls like me, is still.
It's painted lips, it's iron will.
It's smiling wide when hearts are sore,
It's holding back...
and giving more.