I laid my eyes on a lovely poetic line, last night,
It drew a poignant picture, where two people connect in a mystical way,
Giving birth to a river of joy, that never dries,
Flowing with lovely memories, heartfelt and true.
Unable to let them go, guarded and cherished in my heart,
Like happy, tiny fragments of life, I hold as my most precious possession.
Time eventually turns them sour, when sadness engulfs me,
My eyes, frantically searching for support, for escape, only meet a cold darkness,
Your sweet laugh, a bitter, distant thought,
Your absence, my only certitude,
And mis ojitos, now the sole source of my stream.
Therefore, I wander, alone, with a lump in my throat,
Exhaustingly looking for the bright skies, I once witnessed.
My heart feels heavy,
Frightened by the day I will scream for your attention,
Only to be greeted by the deafening silence of my own echo,
My once warm and sweet river, now overflowed by a longing, cold and bitter rain,
For I know that dreaded day is already deeply carved on the stump of my tree.
One day, one of us will be gone, and the other will never even know.
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 2:26 PM UTC
I laid my eyes on a lovely poetic line, last night,
It drew a poignant picture, where two people connect in a mystical way,
Giving birth to a river of joy, that never dries,
Flowing with lovely memories, heartfelt and true.
Unable to let them go, guarded and cherished in my heart,
Like happy, tiny fragments of life, I hold as my most precious possession.
Time eventually turns them sour, when sadness engulfs me,
My eyes, frantically searching for support, for escape, only meet a cold darkness,
Your sweet laugh, a bitter, distant thought,
Your absence, my only certitude,
And mis ojitos, now the sole source of my stream.
Therefore, I wander, alone, with a lump in my throat,
Exhaustingly looking for the bright skies, I once witnessed.
My heart feels heavy,
Frightened by the day I will scream for your attention,
Only to be greeted by the deafening silence of my own echo,
My once warm and sweet river, now overflowed by a longing, cold and bitter rain,
For I know that dreaded day is already deeply carved on the stump of my tree.
One day, one of us will be gone, and the other will never even know.
Request permission to use this poem