The news hit like thunder,

splitting the sky of her mind in two.

A name—his name—ripped from breath,

left hanging in the air,

a ghost without form,

a storm without rain.

She watches him, her love,

folding in on himself like a dying star,

his grief spilling in waves,

too violent to hold, too deep to drown in.

She should say something.

Shouldn’t she?

Shouldn’t she know how to mourn

for a boy she barely knew,

but now cannot forget?

The wind howls through her ribs,

but she is silent.

She grips his shaking hands,

feeling the aftershocks of a loss

she does not own.

Guilt comes in lightning flashes—

sharp, hot, fleeting.

She does not deserve this grief, does she?

Not when his mother is screaming.

Not when her love is breaking.

Not when the world is soaked in his absence.

She stands in the rain,

not knowing if she should run for cover

or let it drown her.