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Your love remains
In the empty space around me
Long after you are gone

I talk to the emptiness
And sometimes
You still feel as tangible as you did before
Knowing all the honeyed things you would reply
And all the tender touches you would give
If you could

So I continue my conversations with the silence
And find solace in the way you linger
I miss you
Emily 1d
I walk to the places
We never went with each other
I talk about the things
I never talked about with you
I feast without you by my side
Never once thinking of you
Until now

Ne’er before had mortality
Seemed so bleak and grim
Until I laid upon
Not your visage; pale and fair
But your casket bedecked with petals
Thinking about the light
Cast out to where your future should have been
Instead of eight feet underground

I bluster
As I try to understand
The change of fate
The whims and cruelties
Of people I don’t know
Even you

The one whom I cried for
And still continue to cry for
Because I cannot articulate
How two lovers perish
In such fateful wreckage

I think of from where I had come
And from where I must go
Periphery, you were
Periphery, you remain
Except when tears line my eyes
As I realise that the future
Isn’t as predictable as I thought

I will never hold your baby
In my arms
And you will never hold mine
But that is the domestic writing
Thinking about the future
So cloudy and grey
Even when I hold onto roses so stiffly

Roses that I must,
I am afraid,
Lay at your head and feet
Whilst you sleep within the earth
And will never take breath again
Not to sing or laugh
Like you did when we were children

When we still went to the same places
And still talked about the same things
And ate next to one another
Never thinking
The future would quite be like this
Never thinking we would be caught
In the fray of fate as things turn out
So wrong and so sad

But I continue to think of things
I could have said when you were alive
When I didn’t cherish your presence
Because memories are so easily
Made and forgotten
But please take them all
And I will continue to give
All these unspoken words you
In flower bouquets and poetry

For that is all I have
To remember you by,
My dear ailurophobe
Named grace twice
Fitting as you feel twice buried
So, I bid you farewell
With this to part us
But you will never leave my thoughts
Even as I stray along the path
And am subject to fates we never imagined
In loving memory of my cousin, Hannah, who passed away earlier this year
Nthaby 3d
When love leaves,
You begin to imagine what it would feel like if you saw them again,
What if you bumped into them and saw their smile once again,
And as you picture it, you start experiencing all the feels.
You wonder what it would've been like if it never ended,
Perhaps it was gonna be as easy as a breeze,
But you remember that it was not as easy as breeze,
You remember that opposites don't always attract.
The thought of love with someone else makes your chest tight,
What if I get anxiety the next time I see love with another?
What if I get anxious the next time love looks at her like she is all that he ever wanted?
Did I really want love to go? If I did, why does it feel this way?
You fake smile it away but rush to the bathroom and throw-up.
In that moment, you remember that true love does not possess,
You remember that all you ever wanted was for them to smile,
So perhaps next time you see love smile,
It won't matter who brought the smile on their face.
Even if it meant you had to leave love, for love to smile again.
It was a distressing time
When the heartless wind
Kept on blowing,
And the white clouds
Shifted into endless grey,
Bringing thunder and lightning.

A storm arises
And osculates
In the midst of the dark sky,
Droplets of water
Came thudding
Into the ground.

The wind
Steadily emits
And whispers
Their unfeigned apologies
Into the mist
Of the tempest.

The sky
And the clouds mourned,
While solemnly,
It ruefully smiled
And took you away,
Only leaving ashes behind.
I wrote this poem to express many lives that I knew has passed away, including the closest friends.
Troy 4d
Thou red headed Phoenix
So full of life
Lay still on the table
So cold and limp

Ascending upon high
This Phoenix does fly
So be buried in the earth
Soon to rise again

The shattered remains
You leave so many dear
The pain in which has fallen
Can only pass with time

Until you fly once more
We mourn the loss of you
So come back soon
And gaze us with your flame

Shine bright
Oh Phoenix of fire
Death does it become you
For when you sink into the ashes

A new life emerges
Clinging still to thou dead flesh
It shutters slightly at the cold
Never to regain its full flight

So we say unto thee
May you Rest In Peace
Never to feel pain
Or sorrow ever again
Close friend and muse of Phoenix of Fright has passed away. This is in memory of her. May she rest in eternal peace.
In the night watches
I avoid you

no point in
tearing flesh

for rivers to
burst through

rudely scorning
torn pages

of some old book
clutched to

dreams not yet smashed
on rocks of adulthood

avoided in the night watches
lest the dark becomes

intolerable
Welcome to your first session
Of couples’ therapy.
Before we begin conversation,
I would like to share something with you.
New research has found that, in therapy,
A client’s motivation is the most important factor.
Here is one article about it. I have copies for you.
I devised an exercise to increase your motivation.
This is, motivation about what you want to have
…again, as a couple…what you used to have.
Though there are two of you, I will say "her"
in order to keep things flowing
and for other reasons we can discuss.
Please make your selves comfortable.
Relax your muscles, starting with your toes
And working your way up.
(Yes I know it’s funny…but it works)
Focus on your breathing—in and out.
Not big breaths, but calm, even, shallow breaths,
That create stillness. Drive away intruding thoughts
And focus on the present, on being relaxed.
Are you calm? Are you in the moment? Good!
Now…I want you to imagine an ordinary day.
Picture yourself coming home from work, or
Some other place. See the road as you drive.
You don’t judge it but merely notice it.
Look at the buildings and trees as you drive past them.
Is everything the same as always? Good.

It’s an ordinary day. A day in your life.
The sun is in the sky, the grass is green
And all is as it should be. You feel content.
Keep breathing. Relax if you have tensed up.
Now picture yourself arriving home.
What do you do? Where do you enter your house?
What do you say or do inside?
Now, imagine that there is no one answering your “Hello”.
What do you feel? Remember how you feel when
Your wife or husband said, “Hello” or “Hi” back to you,
Even if it was casual or not very loving.
You are home now and it seems there is no one there.
What do you feel? Are you worried? Angry? Suspicious?
What do you do next? Hang up your coat, put down your bags.
Maybe you have groceries and you go to the kitchen.
Take a deep breath and relax. It’s just like any other day,
You think.

Now imagine entering the kitchen  finding her there
Motionless on the floor. Do you find this bizarre?
What do you feel when you see her?
Think…
Imagine that you run to her, heart in your feet,
Maybe your head spinning and adrenaline
Is keeping you conscious.
Imagine reaching down,
Calling her name, shaking her
But she doesn’t move. What do you feel?
Her skin is gray, her lips blue.
You don’t even feel for a pulse because
You know…she is gone. It seems that
Time stretches out like a long road
With a fatal car wreck on it.
Now comes the sick whirling inside,
The lightheaded improbability,
Do you deny what you see, what you know:
She is gone, but you fight against it.
Would you call for help? Perhaps you
Reach out to family, to a daughter or son,
As if they will know more than you
About what to do.
What do you tell them?
They arrive and enter that same world
Of stunned, disbelieving chaos.

When paramedics and maybe police arrive,
They are businesslike, quick: they’ve seen this before.
They are of little help to you
Except to examine “the body”.
Are their questions ones you can’t answer
Without indescribable pain?
Or do you not hear them at all?
Take a moment to imagine what you feel.

And as they take the body away.
You may watch the woman you love
Being zipped up into a bag,
Of perhaps someone had the sense
To put you in a soft chair like a baby,
To guard you from that sight
And speak softly, knowing
That your mind is barely there..
As you sit there, perhaps sipping alcohol,
Or maybe taking a sedative.
Things happen around you.
Are you a paralyzed fish in
A glaucous aquarium?
Or do you rave against the unreality
Of this thing?
Think…

Perhaps more relatives or neighbors arrive and hover.
You watch them cry and maybe
You think they have the right to grieve
More than you, for this was their mother
Or daughter and in the chaos,
Your love for her is ignored by all
Except you.
What are you feeling now?
Do you watch the show
Vaguely, remembering
Instead the things you wanted to tell her
But never said,
The places you said you would go
But never went,
Or worse, the hurts you inflicted
But never healed?
Imagine what this would be like.
You might cry yourself to sleep this night,
Or lie there, still numb, saying over and over,
“This isn’t happening.”

Now imagine the funeral;
Are you dressed in black
And do you do what your family does
On these days?
Did you see her again and say good-bye?
Or did you have the casket closed,
So as not to look at her like that?
Perhaps she was cremated
And when you arrive
At the cemetery, there is just
A small, stone box, a pretty one,
Like the one she had for her jewelry.
And it all floods back:
A scene of her, sitting at a mirror,
Putting earrings on and combing her hair.
Think…

How does it feel to know that
You will never see her again
In this life?
You know what is next—
The solemn procession
The loved ones weeping
Or standing stone still
And little ones, confused.
The words are read out by
Someone—a religious leader
Or just a funeral director.
Does it matter? Do you listen?
Sometimes the funeral is hardest,
Or for some, the easiest part;
It is scripted and you can walk through
The rituals, the reading of expected prayers.

You are silent on the ride home,
Feeling strange in the comfort
Of a limousine—so foreign yet sterile.
You watch the others’ vacant faces to see
What they feel, hoping for a clue
About what to say.
But nothing comes. Not even after
You are home, looking at the unaccustomed crowd.
Why are they here, chatting, eating, getting drunk
When you just want to be alone?
People say things but you hear vague words
From another language that you've forgot.
Some people even laugh or giggle;
Do you want to slap them?
Or are you grateful for the distraction?

Finally, as the morning wears down into
A cold afternoon, the black-dressed figures
Start to disappear. Some just touch you,
While others wrap you in their arms
And you don’t know why.
Some family members mills around,
Fussing over details big and small.
Some are things that she used to do
And you ignored them. Now
You wish you had watched her
Put food away, or fold things—perhaps
You would even offer to help.
You would do anything now…
And you would give anything
To see her move, smile, even to herself.
You would smile at her and say, “I love you!”
for no reason.
Think…

Now listen to your own voice
Saying that you need her.
But that is all done.
Perhaps you spend a night
With someone in the house,
Who stays to watch you.
After all, you have put on a show
So they won’t worry too much.
And on the second day,
Nothing seems real.
You are not the type who talks
About anything deep.
Yet maybe you feel sick
And would talk if you could.
Do you keep thinking she will
Suddenly walk in?
This is very common.

Hours groan past, elongated.
Sometimes, throughout the day
There are shocks to your system,
Electric shocks of reality.
You see her body again,
Or the coffin, the stillness of death
That is incomprehensible.
Sunset comes like an anodyne,
You think...
Night will blanket the loss.
But when your loved one or your neighbor
Leaves at last.
You are not glad to be alone,
As you used to be, sometimes,
When the expectations
Of marriage annoyed you.
When to be alone was a relief.

And now that feeling is alien.
You want nothing more
Than to spend the evening with her,
Sitting together on the couch,
Watching a favorite show
Or talking of interesting things.
Yet even those ideas are painful now.
She is not here and never will be again.
Slowly, reality seeps in, like rain
Into the soil around a tree
Or the dirt on her grave…
You sink into the seat, melting
Under the weight of grief.
The house seems to echo with her
Voice and you keep thinking
She calls to you as she used.
And you hear yourself
Snap at her, annoyed,
As you so often were.
Why was that? You don’t know now.
You were selfish, distant…
So many times, but why?

Think…
If she were alive now,
What would you say or do,
To show her you love her?
There is a ticking clock somewhere
And you can’t remember its place.
The house echoes again,
Not with her voice,
But with the long, empty sound
Of despair.
This is an experiment, a session of guided imagery rather than a lecture.
PrttyBrd Oct 11
I found my grandmother the night she died
The room filled with mourning tears
My mother slapped me
because I hadn't cried in two days
At 18 how do you emotionally process a body that once held a life?

Disconnected from my thoughts
I felt neither pain nor love nor loss
How could I say that, without feeling defective
but I couldn't get past that shell with empty eyes
that stared at me until I noticed they weren't smiling

When the body turned to flesh
she was gone and I was lost
in those empty eyes that seemed to
hold a universe of nothing
and if I stared too long I'd disappear in that void
where her light used to shine

**

Too soon, I held my mother's hand as she passed
and watched the life leech out of her skin
The eyes were the last part of her to fade
I stared at her
Willing with all that I am that they would
spark and reignite the fire of who she was
But her skin ran cold the second the light ceased
So cold, yet so very soft.

Two days, and a blended family to hold up
Even with makeup, dressed to the nines
It didn't feel less... wrong
She was beautiful, but she wasn't my mother

I couldn't escape the knowledge
of invisible sutures
As I held her face and fixed her hair
I cursed those television shows I once watched with her
The ones that taught us how things worked
The ones that burned the knowledge of
the sutures into my memory
a memory I couldn't escape

Four days and two shoulders heavy with tears
Too busy with paperwork and wishes
to bleed tears of my own
Thankful for things to do
So I wouldn't get lost in her empty eyes
that stared at me whenever I closed my own

I sit here, grown, wondering how to
emotionally process a body that once held a life?
Praying that she will slap me for not being able to cry
Just so I could feel her
101118
346w
I miss you Mami
Audio file:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PZOHeLKJCs3Bu5CUYWTQJI6-JOiZp_4c/view?usp=drivesdk
Idiosyncrasy Oct 8
six seventeen
morning
I've exhausted
all the options
just for this to stay.

split second
high noon
The eyes
are the first
to lose their way.

sorry sighs
dusk
The heart then
loses its place
in the dance.

six seventeen
mourning
How does it feel like
to never give
something a chance?
I hope it's good enough.
Jamie Lee Oct 6
In the first appearance,
of those piercing blue eyes,
my world expanded,
as you so selfishly loved me.

Without any understanding,
of my own selfishness,
we took our first steps,
into a new adventure.

Challenges and triumphs,
we faced them both;
yet it made no difference,
when the end arrived.

Three years of memories,
lessons, and growth.
You have changed,
and I have changed.

Our time has come,
to take our own paths.
Our shared journey,
was that of its own.

The absence of you,
within my life,
will never exist,
within my heart.
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