There will come a day when you will no longer haunt me.
Your words will no longer circulate in my head.
I will no longer see your face in strangers on the street,
And the sound of mothers calling their children by your name will no longer cut me adrift.
Yes,
There will come a day when I no longer bewail your loss.
I will not miss you as I do now.
Thoughts of you will no longer burn like the pain of a bee sting,
and your absence will not ache like the phantom pain of an amputee.
Soon enough,
There will come a day when I meet a person,
maybe in the coming months or maybe in a few years,
whose presence will bring butterflies, as yours once did,
and their words will lift me so high that I feel stars on my lashes.
And, on that day,
I will feel whole again.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
There will come a day when you will no longer haunt me.
Your words will no longer circulate in my head.
I will no longer see your face in strangers on the street,
And the sound of mothers calling their children by your name will no longer cut me adrift.
Yes,
There will come a day when I no longer bewail your loss.
I will not miss you as I do now.
Thoughts of you will no longer burn like the pain of a bee sting,
and your absence will not ache like the phantom pain of an amputee.
Soon enough,
There will come a day when I meet a person,
maybe in the coming months or maybe in a few years,
whose presence will bring butterflies, as yours once did,
and their words will lift me so high that I feel stars on my lashes.
And, on that day,
I will feel whole again.
Request permission to use this poem