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Shofi Ahmed Nov 2017
Sometimes the day smiles
shows me its colour.
No, then the wild blue yonder
doesn’t look to be far
I feel like I got the wings to fly.

But who would sway away
when the rose under the nose
floating on a sea of colour?

The luminary punter too
drops down from the sky.
Paints the broad daylight
as it sails down on its silky way.

Ah, the southern breeze
bends with the rose of the day
peeps in the colour before my eyes.
I could only see missing my butterfly.
Helena May 2018
like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you came to me
gently,
with the soothing voice
of a sweaty spring
thank you, old friend
for being able to be
dark enough to see
the hidden light
in me

i will not go into the times we shared
asphyxia and summer air
juxtaposed to form
an inseparable pair

who am I, old friend
when the ship´s horn blares
if you made me who I am
(if you made me scarce)

like yellow flowers
on faded dreams
you left me
softly, without
any warning of
the lack of color
(there would be)
without your splendor
Salsa Mar 2014
Tossing and turning
in this lonely bed of mine,
my heart is heavy
with the ache of missing you.

I crave your delicate words
like I crave coffee in the morning.

My soul feels vacant
without your lingering presence.

Time is ticking my life away
as my thoughts echo your name.

My eyes bleed out the bitterness
I've latterly felt towards you.

I'm still writing about you
and you haven't read a word.
I couldn't sleep because I missed Fahad so much.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2018
Wistful tears melt down my cheeks.
Nostalgic of our time together.
I kept myself together for a year, and now without the pitiful distractions, I have to look at myself, alone.
Debilitating heartache
Bleakening one’s self.
Pining to both relive and forget the past.
Everything is still so crystal clear,
so picturesque in nature.
The smells, the sights, the feelings.
How could I have let it slip away from me like that?
Did he ever speak of me?
Ever talk about me?
Or did he just forget the joyous days we spent together under the heat of moment’s madness?
Am I the only one homesick for not my house, but for the person that broke me?
My lip twitches as sentimental recollections start to overflow and spill, creating a puddle of emptiness, longing, and heartbreak.
Watching the clock tick down seconds I've wasted
waiting for you.
Jay Jun 2018
I'M MAKING nachos in your toaster oven. The chips fall in the pan without a problem. Beans, evenly distributed (if I do say so myself.) Salsa- good to go. Then the cheese. Generic brand shredded cheese blend. I dangle my (washed) fingers into the zip-lock bag, grab a generous pinch and rain mild cheddar down on my gourmet meal. And I feel the tears building. "No," my conscious scolds, "you will not cry over shredded cheese." I add another pinch for flavor, then another to assert dominance. I slide the pan into the tiny oven- triumphant! But the next task breaks me. I freeze when I try to adjust the heat setting. I hear your voice so clearly, like you're still calling from the next room: "you have to press the TOAST button, it cooks much faster."  The tears start to roll. I think about how excited you were when cheese bubbled perfectly- "just a little brown, ever so slightly crispy." We would joke about your persnickety preferences, likely a product of your superior taste. Of course, you would have appreciated anything I made for you, but it was always better when the dish matched the idea in your head...when I made it like you would have made it (if you were only well enough to cook for yourself again.) In the present, I poke the TOAST button and flee the kitchen as to not cry in front of the smothered chips. I sit on the sofa and break down, gasping in childish sobs. "I miss her," I wail to an empty house. Warm tears coat my cheeks in the air-conditioned room. I feel so small. I feel so foolish for crying over stupid, little things. I feel so... so... A bell dings in the kitchen. I wipe my sleeve across my face and traipse back to the toaster. Hand into oven mitt, mitt onto pan, pan onto table. I grab the plastic tubs of sour cream and guacamole from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer that sticks a little when you try to open it. I pick the non-wilted bits off the head of lettuce and rinse them under the faucet. I finish the recipe. I pull out a chair. I sit down to nachos for one.
Grief is such a strange emotion/process.

*Oh my! Thank you all so much for your support! I wrote this back in June when I needed to get it out of my head and had no idea it was chosen as a daily until I just logged back on and thought there was a glitch with my notifications number. I was slightly mortified that a piece of my mourning got exposure but after reading your comments I'm glad that I documented something many of you identified with. I've since journeyed a bit farther in my grief- slowly overcoming my initial instinct of trying to instantaneously analyze every feeling to determine whether I'm "allowed" to have it. I went to a group bereavement meeting offered by the hospital that treated the loved one in this poem and the nurse running the session made a good point- no one can fully understand another person's relationship with an individual who's passed on. Interpersonal relationships are unique and so is grieving. Being gentle with yourself (especially in times of struggle) is woefully underrated. And with that, I send love, gratitude, and positive vibes to this wonderful community
JAC May 2017
Seeing you
makes me
miss you
more.
A cyclical poem, one of my all-time favourites.
Deb Jones Jul 2018
I miss the way you laughed
Your head thrown back
And a hearty bellow
Full of mirth
I miss that

I miss the way you whispered in my ear
The sweet music of your voice
Pulling me into sleep
Wrapped in your arms
I miss that so much

I miss your voice
So intelligent and wordy
I would gather your words in my arms
Like bouquets
I miss that too

I miss the way you walked
So sweetly quiet
Making the smallest carbon footstep
With your size 13 shoes
I miss that

I miss your smile
That started at the edges of your mouth
And ended with a small curve of your lips
I miss the pleasure I felt when I made you grin

I miss your touch
The loving sweep of your hand along the curve of my hip
The way we start off making love
And ended up having ***
I miss that

I miss your smell
The way you smelled of sunshine and wind
After going outside
I would bury my face in your shirt or coat
I miss that so much

Most of all I miss us
The way we loved each other
We were a circle of two
Full of passion and purpose

We thought we were invincible
No one could break our bond
Yet they did
We were wrong.

I miss you.
the scent of her sweat
cigarette ash on my skin
she says, "don't forget."
as she whispers to my ear
the story of how we met
Steve Jun 2018
And the days following, life is supposed to be normal again
Except some of you is missing
But time gets you past it
As you’ve been told.

And you do, or at least you do in part, get normal again
But the bit that’s missing
You learn to control it
And you grow old.

And all the days from then with a broken jig saw to complete  
You are the bit that’s missing
Nothing can change that
Hearts grow cold.

Then there comes a time when the thought of you brings only a smile
And though you’re missing,
Nothing changes that
Memories are gold.
A poor attempt to describe the process following a major loss.
Salsa Oct 2018
I've heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder;
but somehow it seems to me,
melancholy is the mislaid piece,
for the pangs in my chest
have only grown stronger.

We're 3000 miles apart,
on separate time zones and continents,
your absence from my eyes
captivates my consciousness.

Replaying our memories
in an infinite loop,
my mind plays its tricks
to remind me of you.

As if I could forget
that spellbinding time we spent,
on the days and nights
right after we met.
Missing Jordan.
A Sad Alex Aug 2018
It follows me around you know
Maybe it never really left
It hangs around the air, light as a feather
But it´s presence, heavy as a weight.

As I sit on the bus, an empty seat at my side
It sits, it looks at me, and it stares...
And my mind is flooded with thing we used to do
Things of lovers: to kiss, to hug, to lose myself in you
To show you my affection, to show you I cared.

As I go out to take a walk, it walks by my side
It matches my speed, no matter how slow or fast
And my heart weighs heavy with things I could have done
Tell you I love you, being there for comfort
So much time wasted, never to return.

As I lay in my bed, it lays by my side
Perfectly still, just outside of my grasp
And our future banishes in front of my eyes
Our home, our family, our lives intertwined
It tears me apart, as I begin to cry.

It follows me around, but I can´t leave it behind
The ghost of you, it haunts me day and night
The mistakes I made… The errors of my ways…
I pay for dearly, every single day
Loneliness follows me, and it has your shape…
Hopefully you guys enjoy this one, I felt a bolt of inspiration to write this, and that is one of the best feelings on Earth for me, to just pour yourself on a poem.
Steve Page Mar 2017
I miss my mother most
when I'm in her frenetic company.
Such an angry fragile woman
in the shadow of the mum
she used to be.
Lost and alone, wanting a way home,
one woman against the world
with no old friends
only fresh new foes.

She can identify every shifting lie
sitting scared with no escape
from a hundred shifty eyes.
Stalkers criticise every mistake
watching her practice looping moves
cornering her as if to prove
that we're all conspiring
each trying to rob her
when the screaming truth here
is that her fleeting thoughts
have already gone where
we can never walk
not even in our tears.
Dementia is a slow killer.
Nikita Feb 2014
I sit here thinking about you
Thinking about the good times
everything about you is special
that feeling of being with you is magical
the warmth of your hug
the sweetness of your kiss
ahh ! i miss you so much  
every day i love you more
i can feel your presence
wherever i go i can feel it .
** I love you
If I feel tomorrow like I feel today,
I'll try again Anyway
What's to be but what's to lose,
There's too much haze, too much snooze,
I sleep it off,
This heavy cloud,
The break of dawn. I win.
Another day another light,
Another date another sin.
If I can feel tomorrow this sad abyss
I might just die of lonesomeness...
Nazreen Nawi Feb 2016
Am i a bad shooter??
Cause i keep on missing you
Whenever you are not on my sight,
A piece of my heart is missing
Is there any ripple in time and space??
Cause it feels like forever waiting for you to return
Part of my sanity goes missing,
As i see you smiling and giggling.
My heart wonders what made it stop to sing
Then i realize, its you who's missing.
When the young miss their love. Had this idea when i was looking at this young man waiting for the arrival of his gf at the airport
I wrote another poem about you today
Of all the things I wish I could still say
That I would be there for you when the days were long
And play you my guitar and sing you our song
I know as of now we have to be friends
But I wonder if this pain and sadness ever ends
One day I hope I can be what you need
And give all my loving to you with each deed

-AJT
Marla Apr 13
Peering upside down
Hanging from a monkey bar
As laughter rings all around,
Both near and far.
I can't seem to stop missing that innocent bliss
That followed me everywhere before I turned six.
Now I'm kind of sad that all I have are memories,
But I guess that's to remind me happiness is still possible.
L B Sep 2018
My friend and I talk about it
Neighborhood got decimated this year
One after another the corners of community are gone
We touch the elder memories
as one might touch a head in blessing
as loved ones pass

We linger longest over John

Found dead after ten hot days
by other-worldly hazmat crew
flanked by cruisers
with their special, yellow truck
and zipper bags

...found 'im
glasses folded neatly on the night stand
in his jammies
all tucked into bed

No one thought it strange
that strange young guy would die
already decomposing in his head
Lost
among his personal effects
his fleet of rusting cars
and half-assed projects
Deck tacked to garage
his herds of “pets”

Easy to pretend he wasn't really there
between jail stints or some imagined threat or theft
of crap
haunted by the shadows of his persecutors
caught in motion lights
and cameras' blinding evidence of
jungle-jumble and malfunctioning car alarms
going off in the wind
Everyone's out to get his stuff
We could dismiss him--

mostly
sorta

...except for times
he mowed his grass at night
or hand-built “the lunatic tower”
just for mom
from scavenged scraps and
hammered hours
power-sawed
through the housing codes
and horror of the neighbors...
...Such a special spectacle...

******* crazy-- John!

He was enough for one day at a time
like when

he flung that threatening bolder
on his bilco doors
for percussive effect

Get off my ******' property!”
(not using his “inside voice”)
“Next time, that'll be your head!!

He announces his intent
to not get mad, behave himself
to call the cops on me instead
Fake-dialing
While his mother screams in dread
“John is off his meds!”

My phone is set to speed dial
911
__

“How did we miss this?
How did we not miss him those quiet days?”

How we miss him now
How quiet
Every neighborhood has one,  and I do miss him.  John provided endless daily entertainment and angst.  Sometimes he was a truly friendly neighbor; sometimes, truly scary.  We had many long conversations.  My beloved cat, Bailey adored him.  I took that as a good sign.  John cried when Bailey was found dead.  I have entrusted them to each other's care in heaven.

Jesus, forgive John his failures and his torments.  I take his place dutifully as the local crazy.  :)
mt Apr 2018
u used to like the way i listen u liked it more when i'd speak
i'd fall asleep to ur voice and find heaven in ur heartbeats
missing u hurts my core, makes me think feel and cry
tell me if my hands didn't still shake when i see u would u allow urs in mine
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