It was not my responsibility to mourn your pain,
It not my pain to understand.
But you did not know how to heal,
And I could not heal for you.
That leaves someone in misery,
I just don't if it is you or me.
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 2:22 PM UTC
You were not allowed crayons a child,
In fact you never made a single drawing.
You never knew to draw the sky pink,
Never being innocent enough to imagine the grass blue.
There was only one reality,
One you should not understand.
A child should not understand a world. without fairy tales,
And I am sorry your grass was never blue.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 9:59 PM UTC
There is a day it finally stops hurting.
It will be in October,
On a Monday after a unforgiving Sunday
No grant moment of healing,
No final tears shed.
You will wake up early at sunrise,
See the autumn leafs,
And breathe for the first time in a long time.
Everything will be okay when the snow melts.
Mar 26
Mar 26, 2026 at 10:51 PM UTC
One day,
I felt it start to rain inside despite clear skies.
A constant noise,
A chill a child cannot understand.
It made me fear monsters at night,
And ruined the dusty picture books.
And it never stopped pouring.
A rainstorm in childhood,
A hurricane in adulthood,
And a lifetime of begging the rain to run dry.
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 6:25 PM UTC
When death greets me after my final act,
He will offer a warm smile,
And lead me by the hand.
He will bury me under the old oak tree,
The moon my final view.
I will be buried beneath the autumn leaves,
The leaves a lullaby under the stars.
No regrets,
No guilt in ending the play too soon.
My life was cold,
But the leaves offer warmth I’ve never known.
And when Death buries me beneath those autumn leaves,
I will be granted the rest I deserve
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 5:14 PM UTC
It is Sunday Dinner,
And you are loved.
Father is coming home soon,
Mother promises to let you help in the kitchen.
Your drawings are hang on the fridge,
And a childhood movie is playing on the old TV.
You are 7 years old,
You are loved.
But you don't remember being 7,
You don't remember Sunday Dinner,
Do you?
Mar 22
Mar 22, 2026 at 2:33 PM UTC
As I lay in our old wedding bed,
I listen as Death quietly calls upon me.
And now a final request.
A pen from our son,
Paper from the sketchbook that captured your final day,
And your wedding ring within reach.
On this paper,
I will pen a description of you.
Words that bleed the beauty you held,
Stanzas that depict the love never forgotten,
Written in the deepest longing literature can convey.
And as I write my final verb,
Death fills my hand with yours.
42 years of waiting a memory,
An eternity ahead,
And evidence of your beauty left behind.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 1:09 PM UTC
A christmas tree is a tragedy in July.
In December,
The tree was a symbol of love and hope.
Decorated with care,
Touched by a loving mother's hand.
But December was a long time ago.
Now the tree stands in the corner,
Confined between broken cardboard boxes.
A man leaves,
A woman cries.
And when the door closes,
The tree is not the only forgotten love once shared.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 1:14 PM UTC
I was put to rest on Monday
It was the day after I took my final breath,
And two days since I saw flowers.
Tuesday,
The sun will cast gold over my grave
And to no surprise,
You were the one who angled the sun on Friday.
One day you move on as the world above continues,
And I find peace with that.
I have the sun to keep me warm
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 1:43 PM UTC
My Sunshine,
I fear our clock sang for the final time.
And that makes tonight our end.
Therefore I want to dance one last time,
Meeting our finale with love in our hearts.
I used my last hairpin to fix the record player,
And I rolled up your mother's rug.
Our audience: the house we built,
The applause whispers of endearment.
And with Sunrise
We take our final bow
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 1:02 PM UTC