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Daniella Veras Jun 2015
I do not deal well with death/illness/suffering. For someone who always seems to know what to say,
when it comes to this, I am at a loss.

I am certain this is so
because I know all too well
there is nothing to say.
Deafening silence.
There is no right thing.
No words to make you feel better.  
There is no consolation prize.
With sadness in my eyes,
I have nothing else to offer.
Just these two arms and lots of love.

Sometimes (most times)
that is not enough.
These two arms can't take away the pain
and trust,
it is not for lack of trying....
I try. ::sigh:: I try....

And if I say "I'm sorry"
that just might REALLY **** you off.
You think I'm sorry for your condition,
like it's my fault or my decision.
I know it's not, I know.
Truth is, I'm sorry I could not give you more.

I wish I had more.
All I have is these two arms.
No words.
Lots of Love.

It's not enough.
Ana Habib Jun 2015
It was like any other piece of jewellery
Made from a thin chain and built to string many memories
The very first token of our love
A flower, for the day we met
A porcelain cup, for the first cup of coffee you made me
An open book for the days, when we worked side by side at the local library
A red car, the same one you would give me rides on
A pair of silver bells, for the day we both said "I do"
A small cottage, like the house we built using only our two hands
A rattle to celebrate the birth of our first child
Roses to mark a 10 year anniversary

It didn't seem like much but meant a great deal
So how could you give it away?
Look for a new owner already?
Slap it on to another woman's wrist
Whose eyes are cold as her heart
ellie Jun 2015
You don't riddle my thoughts in the way that you used to,
back when all I saw on the inside of my eyelids was your face.
Slowly I have moved forwards,
I have made progress and become the person you always wanted to see me be.
But sometimes I still think of you and it feels like a weight is pulling on my heart,
and I get ****** back into the void of missing you.
It's not a feeling dissimilar to the longing of another beside you,
however paired with the craving for that person is the undeniable knowledge that they will never be with you.
It took me a long time to realise that;
you're not coming back,
you're gone forever.
They say acceptance is the first step in moving on,
but what if I don't want to move on?
You are a piece of the person I am today,
you are the part of me that glows and gives me strength to say
"I can do this."
you are the voice in my head telling me
"You are better than this."
you are the smile on my face when I realise I am on the road to recovery,
the worst has passed and one day this will all be just a memory.
So even though you're not coming back,
and even though sometimes I think of you and my eyes blur from tears,
and even though you can never see me become the person you wanted me to be,
I carry your strength and positivity with me always,
you are in my past,
but you are also a piece of my recovery,
which means you are in my future too.
To Ale.
My first real friend, whom I could trust with my life. We never got to meet but you helped me more than anyone else I have ever met. You skyped me at 4am when I couldn't stop crying and at 4pm when I was too sad to leave my room but still wanted someone to talk to. You didn't mind that I was anxious a lot, and that I often wanted to stop existing. You always stood by me and helped me, you made me laugh and feel appreciated and understood and loved. I was so busy receiving your help, I forgot to return the favour. I didn't see how much you were hurting while you projected all your positivity onto me. And so I lost you. For a long, long time I blamed myself for that. I told myself it was my fault you were dead. But now I just think that the only thing I can do is take what you gave me and use it. So I take your positivity and your kindness and I slot it into myself, like a piece of my own personal puzzle and carry it with me always. You helped me to keep going, and your memory is still helping me recover, and one day the traits of you I have held for my own will help me build the life I always told you I wanted. One day we'll meet, I'll tell you how much I miss you and I might leave you some flowers. I wish I could have touched you, laughed with you, hugged you. But saying goodbye to the plants growing where you are scattered will have to do. I love you so much. Thank you for being a part of my past, present and future. I am who I am today because of you. I miss you.
sheridan May 2015
Amy Helen Smith – 1928 – 2015

You had years until your 100th birthday, we’re sad you had to go.
But now you’re with your husband and the angels that love you so.
They’re going to look after you and make you feel at home.
They’re going to keep you safe and help you not feel alone.
You’ll always be missed by everyone, you’ll be loved by us all.
We’re staying strong for you and we’re trying to stand tall.
But your departure hit us hard, harder than we expected.
And when we heard you died, it was even harder to accept it.
It wasn't your time but you were torn from life.
Maybe you were needed up there,
But were still unaware as why.
She died on the 26th may, she'll be dearly missed.
weaver May 2015
Tom said that my name sounds like an exotic flower meets medicine.
Tom said the love he witnessed in me gave him hope.
Tom said he'd make it to my wedding, because I promised he would be the flower boy.
Tom said he had a dream that I was kidnapped and he was trying to save me.
That was the last thing Tom said to me.

And I'm writing about him because I don't know what else to do to remember him;
to give him some sort of tribute of my emotion outside of clutching my chest;
to even allow myself to think about him at all.
But writing is how we met, so this is where I will keep him alive.

Tom had a full name that sounded like an old-fashioned fancy inventor.
He spoke with quick Irish wit, and every time we messaged I would imagine the day
that I could ask him to get on the phone with me so I could hear that accent for myself,
and I tried to picture his face from the two pictures I ever saw of it,
and I daydreamed about seeing a kooky smile while he held out his arms yelling,
"Duckie!!!"
He never called me anything else,
and I never came up with a nickname for him quite as splendid.

Tom told me to find him a Russian man.
He told me he had a dream that he had an unreciprocated crush on me.
(I told him I would never be so rude about it, though.)
It was apparently meant to be, however, when he "accidentally flirted" from autocorrect once.
One time he messaged me at 2am just to ask what "totes" meant.
He sent me terribly-drawn doodles of me, him, and ducks (of course)
that made him laugh so hard at himself he could hardly type,
and those times were my favorite.
I'm thinking about putting one of them on my wall, but it makes me sad to think I couldn't tell him about it.

I never did tell you what I do in the mornings, about the things I hate the most, or about all my tiny ticks.
If I wasn't so ill, I might have remembered to message you more -
then again, I figured we had the rest of our lives for our friendship.
That phrase feels sickeningly familiar in my mouth.
Colorado is where my friends go to die, it seems.

"How's your lade?"
"You are the dotiest together."
"You two are my sunshines."
"Your love gives me hope in the world."

Late nights filled with panic and unease, the kind only love can instill in you,
and calm messages back from him that told me to keep doing what I'm doing -
she's going to be alright.
And I'm trying to believe that, Tom, I'm trying to believe that with all my heart
but you're six feet under from the same thing that threatens to take my beloved from me
so I'm not sure how to believe you now.
You don't know what I would give to hear from you tonight,
to hear, "she's going to be alright, you're doing all the right things"
to hear, "I'm going to be alright, you're doing all the right things."
I told you I would fight for you with all I have, but I knew what I have isn't a lot right now.
I couldn't do much for you.
I hope with all my might it's enough for her.
(and finally, since the night I was told they pulled the plug, I can cry.)

I didn't get to say goodbye. two weeks before you took yourself from me,
I sent you "goodnight" and "I miss you" and "sleep good" and "we'll talk soon"
…I suppose all but the last is close enough.
(I'll probably always carry a pocket of regret that six days before that,
I never received a notification to your reply.)

you once wrote to me about love and small fonts
and I will never forget the first time i read it and my heart stopped
because you Knew, you understood when I have never even told you.
I'm chasing so many tails of uncertainty now, my dear,
but I will try to remember I can find that I am Loved.
he would expect me to write about this.
I miss you, Tom. I am still so thankful for this gift from you.
twitter.com/rambleonover/status/379372436434587648

twitter.com/cunningweaver
Samantha May 2015
I dance of minuets of the nights
Of grieving hearts and lonely souls
Trapped in time and in their sorrows
Joshua Vincens May 2015
Grandma ...
I miss you... why? /
cause You left with God when He took You/
My only question is ''but how could you.... die?''
hope i'm heard when I say this/
Understand I'm not being selfish/
You have always been there like a light at all times for me... /
You helped to raise & to guide every member of your family/
Now You've become Love itself and Everything.../
You'll stay with me till I reach the end of me/
I look up at the stars n smile cause ur a shining Light/
Through the day ur still there, Even more in the night/
Body gone, but still caring-on soaring in eternal flight/
like you told me/
in the recording/
Of your life legacy/
Strength Courage Compassion & a smart mind/
Keep living on through our memory/
God has you but ur still with your family/
Goodbye
My grandmother passed away, a year ago from the original post time. I had fought the emotions of feeling the loss during that year, distracting myself, and in turn, creating an ocean of emotions that had flooded me when it was time to put her ashes out to sea.
Shelby Azilda May 2015
"It happened eight months ago. You should be okay by now. It isn't an excuse." I'm told after admitting I don't have the drive to really do anything anymore. I really wasn't trying to use it as an excuse.

Today I was going for a run,
It was beautiful out. The sun was hitting the trees in such a way that I would never be able to capture fully with a camera.
I had just gotten back from a family party.

I was thinking about it, who I saw, what went on, something was missing, someone was missing, suddenly I was not running anymore.

I was crying. I was hunched over trying to compose myself. I began to panic.

The words from his note, "I'm sorry" flashed in my head like police lights. What could I have done? I asked. There was nothing you could do. I told myself.

Each realization hit me like a bullet. Memories flooded into my mind. Just short beautiful moments.

I tried to push them back so desperately. I want to save them. I do not want to wear them out to the point where one day I will not be able to remember the crinkled eyed smile I loved so much.

I tried to catch my breath. It was no use. I couldn't.

I haven't been able to since September. I don't feel like I will ever be able to.

Almost eight months ago my grandfather took his own life and I'm told I should be okay. I'm told I should be able to go about my life normally.

"Okay." I respond.
This is 100% true.
Marium Iqbal Apr 2015
We stand in a crowded hallway.
But it feels empty.
It’s just the two of us.
Staring blankly into each other’s eyes.

Wondering whether or not to say “HI”.
Or to walk away and stay as the strangers we now were.
We stare into each other’s eyes debating whether or not, to hold the door.

Wondering if it was worth starting a conversation.
Knowing we wouldn't work anyway.

We were friends at some point.
Then something more.
Now were merely strangers.

We tore apart before we really ever were together.
We left each other waiting for the other to make the next move.
We left each other open and vulnerable.

You shut down.
And shut me out.
You packed up
Left town.

You left and I stood waiting.  
I awaited a hopeless tomorrow.  

You eventually came back.
Apologizing, saying you don’t know how to say goodbye.
And I left saying, “I don’t know how to say goodbye either”.  

Here we are today.
Nothing but strangers.
Passing each other in the crowded high school hallway.  
With nothing but blank stares.
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