It is known that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
Yet what about the prelude to them all?
What about the years I have been grieving over someone as they grin gleefully in unawareness right next to me?
I feel as if the anxious anticipation of what will assuredly come is as painful as what inevitably will.
This overwhelming sense of dread must count for something right?
There must be a sixth stage to this sorrow.
AO Poetry 