"bittersweetness" poems
It's the taste of blackberries
on your lips
The bittersweetness of
not-quite-ripe fruit.
I cannot forget the
sentiment
from the brush
of your fingertips
against my chin
After picking berries
from
these bushes.
I can almost say:
that a memory as gentle
as your kiss
ignites a tenderness
inside me
and the thought that
love isn't so forceful
when subtle.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
A life without changes, would be painless,
Carefree one would obtain eternal happiness but also boredom,
The bittersweetness of the changes in our lives, heartfelt emotions,
Pain, regret, sadness are what push us forward, make us who we are,
The change for the better or worse is for us to decide and take,
A world without change, would simply be stuck in the past while the future seems to be out of reach, too far away to ever grasp it,
A heart who doesn't change, is ignorant and cannot see truly anything without shaking in fear of the unknown, a fear to evolve,
So from now on I will not dwell in the past crying for the phantoms long gone, who have taken their chance and vanished into a better future with memories they made which can be held dear, close.
Let go of what chains you into the misery you felt when you lost it.
All suffering comes from being too attached to one thing.
So my old friend, the name you gave me, the warmth you gave me,
The smile you showed me, the emotions you invoke in me,
I will remember them well and hold them dear,
But you will not return, so I must let you go,
And the name you gave me
~ U̶m̶i̶
Murasame
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
Bittersweetness is burning
Holes into my throat like an instrument
Attempting to give purpose to this
Air that I am breathing in
But noise without melody is chaos
There is no direction, no beat
There is no sheet music to follow along to
And sometimes I just need to breathe
This life is brutal and beautiful
A weaving together of joy and sorrow
Made up of perpetual deaths
Today's finality is the birth of tomorrow
But I want to walk the world with open arms
Let all emotions fully wash over me
And when the waves inevitably block my vision
I'll know it's only moments before I can see again
Dec 29, 2022
Dec 29, 2022 at 9:29 PM UTC
Half of the morning sky holds the night,
as the moon in the semi-darkness still gives its light.
But on the other side of the heavens,
dawn is awakening.
With a glorious pink and orange sunrise.
What a delight to my eyes!
Night and day in the same sky.
Coexisting.
For all to see.
Darkness and light are sharing the canopy.
Just as trials of life can be bittersweet.
The darkness of grief.
And the light of joy and peace incomprehensible.
Existing at the same time.
Colliding each day within the same heart.
The night of loss,
and the day of freedom.
Coexisting.
The darkness of loneliness and regret,
and the light of God's love
and never-ending Presence.
Bittersweet.
The bittersweetness of trials and suffering.
In this temporal life.
Indeed no one escapes them.
Bittersweet.
There is beauty.
Beauty in this.
Like the winter moon in the dark,
and the sunrise awakening the dawn.
Coexisting.
In the same sky.
At the same time.
Creating a beautiful coexistence.
(edited)
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
November days sees me pummelled,
bashed and clubbed to a pulp.
Buried then exhumed...
Skin and bones,
hair and scalp.
Dusks watch me stretch,
warp and break.
Bitten, chewed and spat out.
So that I could come together...
So I could nurse
the same old doubt.
Nights abrade,
as they span for hours.
They sap, they wear.
They mock and they jeer.
There is bittersweetness in the solitude
where coherence of mind
is scarce and rare.
Dawns greet with tiptoeing feet.
Cradle my body where it had lain.
They resuscitate me. Fill me up.
They ward off nightly deaths
so I am reborn,
again and again...
***Into
November.***
.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
What a price to pay to say "well said"
For all great phrasing comes from great tumult
And gladness, sadness, joy are all but fuel
As the "sayers" translate thought to word
They are as hunters, patiently in wait
For a great stirring deep within their being
Emotion wildlife rustling the trees
The game that does not recognize the game
Strategic are these hunters, clever souls
Whose precision cannot be repeated
Miners for the gold within their hearts
Exploring, exploiting their perceptions
And yet, it is but great coincidence.
They do not mean to feel, but still accept
The ludic, accidental inquiries
Subpoenas to their creativity
How much does it cost, a wondrous phrase?
The charge is pain, or love in great amounts
For words upon the page can but reflect
The bittersweetness of their author's id
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
Here in the dark with the music all around me like water, am I a tragedy?
If I walked and kept walking, would I shed what has happened to me?
Am I repulsed as I used to be, by my past and my helplessness, or is this what healing feels like?
Not the presence of joy, but the absence of pain?
We can never go back.
Like a crystal vase shattered on the floor, wholeness just isn't possible the way it used to be.
We can never regain innocence we lose.
I can't tell if I still mourn it, or if I just recognize the space it used to fill.
What will fill it now?
And yet it doesn't hurt.
Will I end up crumbling like you, darling, in a beautiful melody?
In bittersweetness and chagrin?
In irony?
It is bitter cold outside, and I don't recognize my silhouette in the mirror.
Is what it means to stop being a child simply to exist with losses you never thought you could survive?
Am I old, again, in another way? Too soon, again?
You'd think I'd be used to that by now.
I can stop now, you know.
Stop and think without fear.
I used to be running, running constantly from any moment to remember, from any reminder.
And now I have suddenly found that I can stand stock still,
And I don't know what to do.
I've been running for nearly a year.
How will I unlearn my curses and find a new way to exist?
But...thank you, world, for this chance.
I had stopped hoping,
So many times had I deceived myself that I was whole.
I didn't know that the only way to be okay was to accept that I never will be again.
There is a life in that, you know.
I think, for most people, that that is the difference between childhood and adulthood. The moment when you accept that you will never be innocent again.
The shock always hurts, the ripping pain of having it torn from you by whatever suddenly stripped the last of it away,
But once all the denial and grief and anger and madness has ebbed, you realize that
You have become someone new.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:15 PM UTC
colored handprints alight
splattered in dots and lines
a glassy pillow stretches
its wrinkled and hairlined skin
cracked
creaking
crooked
stretched wearing thin..
a hold on the waves
grasping currents
passing
rushing farther and farther
painting the vastness
of this open ended question
muddled muddied marred
blurring in sight
May 22, 2022
May 22, 2022 at 5:02 PM UTC
You don’t know the first half of it
Cause there’s nothing here to fix
And I’ve seen the end of this
And it turns out fine
It turns out fine
I think it means something when it’s over
And every time it happens, I’m sad
Worse every year, and on the last day
We all know it’s here
We can feel it on the sides of our tongues
This bittersweetness
But I still want to roll the windows down
Turn the music up
And drive all night just to hold your hand
Quickly, while everything still looks golden
I want it to stay this way in my memories
So next summer we can start with stories
Do you want to chase the wind
Or do you wanna chase the wind?
Or do you wanna chase the wind with me?
Hold on and try not to miss
Any magic in the summer bliss
And I’ve seen the end of this
And it turns out fine
It turns out fine
How many summer nights have I forgotten?
And what does it mean to be in Fall again?
Why is one sort of weather so accommodating to joy
And why does it feel so important not to waste
If we go to the beach we can start a bonfire
And maybe it’ll stave off the end
And if it does I’ll tell the rest of the world that we found a trick
A loophole in the knot of our lives
Where the colors stay bright and the nights stay warm
Where it’s all happening and we haven’t missed anything
It’s out there if you’ll go
Or it’s out there if you’ll go
Or it’s out there if you’ll go with me
So, hold on and try not to miss
Cause there’s nothing here to fix
And the sunset is part of it
So, it’ll be alright
It’ll be alright
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
In the weirdest, yet most important of ways this was one of the sweetest things I'll ever be told
whether we want to admit it or not we can grow up, move away, find another and start a family but you never truly forget your first love
there will forever be a place in your heart for the first one you gave it to
that person got parts of you that no one else ever will because that YOU was one of a kind
and the kind of love you shared is crazy, and infatuating and raw and maybe one of the most real things you experience regardless of when that comes to you
whether like me, you were 14 and naiive or 20 and experiencing that "first love" for the first time, it's a kind of special that no one can take from you
and I urge you to hold onto that
those memories made you into who you are today
that person gets a piece of you that they will never give back,
and you'll be walking down the street one day and you'll hear a song coming from a car passing by and it will remind you of them
Or
while you are grocery shopping with your pregnant belly and a cart full of produce, someone will walk by and you will smell their detergent
and it will take you back to that dingy old bedroom, with *** stained sheets and cigarette butts on the floor and you'll smile in the bittersweetness of those memories
they will be there to stay
for the rest of your days
those little moments will be all yours, and no one can take that from you...
"that means a lot, and i am sorry for being a **** as a younger person. i am glad you took something positive from it at all and not just remember me as an asswhipe (i was). you have kinda been the girl every one of them gets compared to as far as being a good or bad gf lol. even if i died tomorrow, the things i understand and what i have in my heart - i could say i lived a full enough life to have gotten the idea. thank you lydia."
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
all spaces pulse in tight air and silent gasps and you’ve developed claustrophobia in the length of an hour. increased in his presence, all the lights have become interrogants
your ears pop more than once to disappear maybe probably. the hardening of your compact inner skin is about to crumble in the hollows of your skull and bleed into the voice always being there had you not chosen to tune in to sell out to the only show in town
you wanted to be abandoned but not like this
by some magic you continue to accidentally ***** yourself while he’s holding you holding yourself and you try to stiffen your limbs into thinking they can make hairs stand on end this way probably maybe when you grind your teeth into a fine, damp powder
and when all you need is water
sapping the gruff heat from out the driest desert patches of skin and lifting your overly long hair off away from its tired hang off the skull and you can only believe this now for until
you’re back again
the degrees climb up the walls and stench the room stale with the sweat you ache
he aches differently
your fists red and clammy like little bawling snot toddler fists and you are four again
fourteen forty times and your fists will give up soon but
your fingernails have disappeared into your skin and his breath is very loud over your shoulder right in the ear whistling icy and there is bittersweetness stilling under your tongue
you want to cough to sneeze to explode to make your whole self vanish
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
I wander down the boardwalk
as I used to, many years ago.
Metering my steps to feel some semblance of control.
The yellow streetlights set fire to my
pupils over and over again as I pass under.
There's an old, soft breeze from the
lakeshore coming in.
Although you can't necessarily see the lake from here.
"This is the nice part of town" I tell myself, as my soul rests into the cityscape
and prepares itself.
I'm meeting her tonight.
In many ways its the same night as
many years ago. Warm,
but not enough to be without
a sweater or some layer on top. Although those who are young enough will likely wear less.
Perhaps she'll even choose
to wear that black jacket again.
Walking up the concrete, I look down and feel my feet underneath the weight of my bones. Every fiber and hair is on guard, and
I'm shaking.
"I'm going to give myself away" I think to myself.
I arrive at a dimly lit restaurant, and take my seat on the outside patio. My weight sinks into my cotton shirt, and it in turn pushes into the cloth of the seat. I order some waters and try to breathe into the end of summer.
It's been a decade since I last saw her. Our last exchange was a cup of bittersweetness.
I cycle through thoughts of fate and destiny, wondering about where it is leading me, or I am leading myself, now in my 30's.
I settle on the fact that its all too grand to decide right now.
My phone rumbles against the glass of the table.
And just as quickly
I pounce to check. She's arriving.
I look around frantically but there are no familiar faces.
I feel colder and my heart races.
Am I ready?
Her dress comes from around the corner.
A firm, confident walk, the same as she had many years ago.
I used to observe it carefully when she came my way. She carries her bag cautiously, mindful of her surroundings, but still, seemingly at ease.
Her skin glows ever so sadly amidst the evening sun, a warm caramel reflection back into the sky. We exchange glances briefly. An acknowledgement of a time long ago, and the people we once were together.
It is time.
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 6:16 PM UTC
I walk out to the garden
in the morning again
ahhh how I feel winter's bone
while yes it is August
an it's hotter an hell
but I hear that cold wind
just a-moan
an just a tinge of bittersweetness
in how fast time has flown
and why is it I
that must always now
roam?
an why is it my
leaf that's always windblown?
sigh
but I know
no use just to wonder
I must just embrace the unknown
and yes as my aging bones
they ache too
an I feel the pangs
of missing
the sunshine an warm,
as the winds are a-changin
an the coldness now hangs
those crystalized skies
to soon form
but sigh that's alright
for Autumn comes first
in beauty to see
here unrivaled
our winter is harsh
tho poetically so,
it's the way of my life
my survival
through perilous times
conditions too much
I have now have learned to be stoic
an my father was too
to rarely complain
an I thought my dad was heroic
he worked long and hard
conditions or not,
at least in of what I remember
an his favorite of times
well it was the fall
starting here early September,
the pies and the pumpkins
the laughter and leaves
in smells and in sights to delight
the colorous splendor
awaiting the drift
covering the mountains in white
so bring on the winds
and the beautiful leaves
as everything dead becomes new
in everything seen
and in seasons to pass,
as I am reminded of you
I say a most sincere
and grateful thank you for my life.
Ma Cherie © 2017
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 9:47 AM UTC
dimming violet
and orange edges upon
slanted sidewalks
for an uphill walk home,
tonight's "lastness" is violent,
it's all I that I know,
replaying the sole sound of
a front door slowly being closed.
as the light between the night
and the horizon ebbs,
what's left becomes outer space,
the milky way flowing in.
I could drink the sight,
but with a shot of spite,
or bittersweetness, or some other
Way to rephrase our immense distance.
mourning is not quite the word,
as the odds between
me and the earth
felt like they were evening.
This world had given
But it's unclear if it takes
For I didn't lose the present,
I just put memories away.
Last night
Simply means the night before now
Even if it's our last night
We'll last through it somehow
Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 5:20 AM UTC
why did i do this?
all the progress now dismissed,
i miss you, i love you, i can’t live without you.
i knew this was too true.
the wanting the yearning the ever blurring,
lines between us, perhaps even the falling is blessed.
I was your sweet succulent honey that you can’t get enough of. Good for you, good for your soul, the taste capitulates the lips around, glueing them shut so you can’t make a sound.
It’s all you needed, that little sweetness,
but honey is oh so bad for the bittersweetness.
for I am your queen, you’re life revolves around me to get one last taste of that golden empress.
You’ll do anything for that dopamine.
When you’re on that high, nothing seems to matter,
but why?
Can’t you see that intensity made you something, you’re not meant to be.
you’ve pushed your luck.
That honey bee just isn’t coming back. She’s stung you. Bled you, and now deserted you.
Wounded your soul, but little did you know, she’ll die too.
Her stinger forever in you, while you can go on,
a part of her will slowly die
in your bloodflow.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
Bittersweetness is
energy
without the
CRASH
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
Some may not wake up
Can't see the morning
Can't hear the nature
Can't feel the warmth
Can't smell the fresh air
And can't taste the sweetness.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
the truth is
i am hoping
you remember
me soft and malleable
sweet wine vinegar
wandering
the backwoods in all
my bittersweetness
twisting in my sleep
or humming
incoherent songs
in the passenger
seat.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 10:02 PM UTC
an insistence;
an automatic pouring.
a stream through a vessel.
I am so drawn to my own waterfall
I will throw myself off that edge
to taste its bittersweetness.
Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
The profits all just look away
And nevermind the world today.
Wherefore are philosphical words
Upon the lips of the transgressed against,
The meaningfulness of their minds
Never to be understood?
This I cannot understand.
I can still remember how the energies felt
When they washed upon me and brought me to this consciousness.
I can still recall when I was you.
All at once it happened to me.
Once the light of awareness burned it's mark upon my brow
I became anew.
I understand that all is everything it seems.
That tear in your eye means that you are on the verge of truth.
Nothing matters but the quality of the moment in which I live.
As soon as it is here, it is gone.
Enough, the bittersweetness of thought, tonight!
Release me from thy grip.
I have better things to process.
Dancing on the lifeline,
Flying in the dirt,
Mixing into puddles
Resembling the sky.
Everything is nothing,
Nothing everything.
The truth is but a lie
Not looked in the eye.
Never fear to paspaser.
The fearful will never truly know what it is to rule.
The servant is the master.
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
the news from the telegraph is bittersweet today.
they say they've found a way to take out the pain
of forgotten memories and blocked pathways in the brain.
i wish they would've cleared the road a little sooner.
swept off the loose branches and debris just a little faster.
because... what if it could have saved you?
what if you could've been the one i hugged at my graduation?
what if your letters were the ones waiting for me at the post office?
i can see it written in the corners of my mother's face
as i tell her the discoveries.
it doesn't take long for me to uncover
the bittersweetness she tastes too.
nothing is said but
i see it in the downturn of her eyes and
the ends of her lips, how they don't quite lift up.
that's how i know.
life has moved so fast since you've been gone, hasn't it?
and i know that she would've remembered the pain
of loss, of grief, of loneliness.
but maybe she wouldn't only have to live on
in film pictures and old grocery lists.
maybe my essay wouldn't have ended with a hope and a wish.
i have to trust that it's better off this way because
i know she is in a place with endless beaches and
not a single stone to weigh down her pockets
and that has to be enough.
i still think about the roses and red cardinals in the backyard
and it is enough.
Nov 17, 2021
Nov 17, 2021 at 12:12 AM UTC
Like a telly weather presenter
You have given
A perfect representation
Of bittersweet Britishness,
My good friend, Keith!
I love many things about England
But the bittersweetness
Of the weather
Is not one of them
My ideal climate
would be the same temperature
every day, all day
and all night,
all year long
The moon would have to become
Sun-like during the night;
Then I would be perfectly content
(with the weather)
The weather would stop being
Such a persistent
And consistent
Topic of conversation
And question of commentary,
On whether it was fine or not
The climate in question
Does not exist
Here on planet earth
Sean Hunt
Windermere, January 16 2016
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 3:39 AM UTC
there are brief moments when I can smell death
for a second, ******* I can taste it
and it makes me believe that it is preferable
to whatever the alternatives are.
never can I sense the aroma
when I contemplate suicide
with hot tears running down
my impassible face covered by the shade of night.
it is when I am in fair spirits
then suddenly someone laughs
and more someone's laughs
and I do not
Why hasn't joy infected me, too?
Then is when I taste it
A bittersweetness that is better
than bland that I've been tasting.
Or perhaps when someone asks me a question
seconds pass and I've opened twice only to shut it
I don't know… is all I can muster
because my mind is stimulated by sweetness again
by death
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
Tongue
twists
eloquent
lies
dark
night
of the
soul
brings
our
demise
shaking
lips
whisper
goodbye
to
my
bitter
sweet
honey
drenched
love
of mine
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 2:48 PM UTC
The taste of your mouth.
The bittersweetness hurts me
To the point of agony.
Sep 17, 2016
Sep 17, 2016 at 3:03 PM UTC