I see her dismal existence.
I see her eyes scream,
'why me?'.

Two people who raised her,
two people who loved her the most,
two people who took their own life.
The father left early,
she mourned and moved on.
As her heart and soul grew old
so did the bond with her mother.
Maybe it's after I came into the picture,
she truly understood the veiled weight of
motherhood.
Confined within her marital vows,
she still lives content
knowing that there is one other person
who truly understands her.
Warped, the world must've seemed
as she was pulled apart from that sense of relief.
As her mother left,
I watched mine teeter on the edge
of a meaningless pit.
As the seasons moves on, we hoped she would too.
But she is haunted
by what could've been.
Unlike all the other sorrows she has overcome
this one is too much.
This one is heavier
and much crueler.

I wish I could mend her forlorn soul.
but I slowly discern,
all I could ever do is listen.

Regret anchoring
me down from reaching out, to
that what lies ahead.

A wretched mind frame
lit with sapphire flame.
In it my past ignites,
destined to flee into emptiness.

All my mental souvenirs slowly evanesces,
as if my mind is a quicksand.

What's the point
of making new memories
if i cant even hold on
to the one's that i already have?