Just on the edge, right over there, it lurks-
Like a toothache. Almost forgotten until
You brush against it. Then it gnaws and the hurt
Builds inside, a tidal wave that fills.
Touch lightly, it may still sleep, but you
Will awaken to it. The memory
Stalks you as much as reality. It pursues,
And when it catches it exacts a hefty fee.
Just over there, it lives, on the other side
of every thought, this beast that grief supplied.