Loss

Loss feels like a big cold ball that's difficult to swallow, and it drags your heart down with it, into your stomach. And it sits there, cold and heavy, and it makes you sick and quiet. Even if it's just a book you left on the train, or an earring you lost in a park. Anything you won't get back. It can be a place you'll never go back to, or a house that doesn't exist any more. Or a moment in time. They're always lost for good. But the ball of loss is biggest, coldest, hardest to swallow when what you've lost is a person. Even though sometimes you know exactly where they are, so they're not technically even lost. But they're lost to you and that's why your stomach feels so cold. So sad.