Loss tastes like barbed wire threaded between your teeth: Sour. Jagged. Obstructive. Bloody.
The worst part, however, is that it never stops cutting you up; it never scrapes off your splintering shards or fills in the dank holes its dug inside you.
Like a nail, Loss hammers itself a steel crevasse in your heart—and remains.
— Ashlee Bree, The Tang of Loss