you talk about me in passing
as if i were something to ponder and discard
an idea to be toyed with then dismissed
how dare you think of me and not get on your knees
while words of reverence grace your ungrateful tongue
my love was divine
writ of gods and goddesses
and you had the audacity to take it for granted
you are not worthy of the glow my mere existence brings to any conversation i am the topic of
the only time my name
should pass the lips of your unworthy mouth
is in the form of a prayer
a plea
i am holy

and you -pathetic, miserable, you-
you are blind

Artist Statement: ​The grieving process looks different for everyone, but anger is pretty universal.