Tag Archives: loss

The senseless

It’s the little things
But sometimes also naturally, the big things
Or the non-existent things
Nonsense yet full of sense
Oh dear, what an awful mess we’ve made.

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Going, going, gone

Hello
Here I am
Over here
To the right
Up high
To the left
Just above
Yes
No, not quite
Wait
What
No
I’m here
I swear
No
No
Hey, where’d you go
I swear
I’d never leave you behind.

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To not

Stay
Emotionally
Physically
A presence
Like crystal dipped rain drops
Falling in cover coated blackness
Freezing on a midsummer’s day
The impossible
All I ask
Stay.

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To breathe

I can’t tell her it was expected
Can’t tell her it was time
Can’t justify
Nor find a valid reason
Can’t possibly explain
I just nod and hold her tightly
Agreeing it’s unfair
In comfort saying
Soon you’ll breathe again.

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In the heart

And so we say goodbye
To the one that was left
Realizing
Now there are no others
Just this
No that
A present
With no living proof of the past
Yet every memory
Holding on
To the only life
It knows
Vividly
In the hearts
Of those still here.

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To grow young

“And as time passes, you forget.”

The silence of words just spoken filled the empty spaces of the room we sat in. I had to let it sink in. I didn’t want to forget yet I didn’t want to remember either. The painstaking duality played evil tricks on my mind constantly, although I have to admit, the forgetting had the upper hand as I grew older. Perhaps it was purely physical, a bodily phenomenon, Alzheimer’s light or whatever they called it. To compensate, my mind actively sought out memories and pushed me in certain directions. But I did forget and I had forgotten, especially the big things. The little things were harder. All of sudden, in the middle of a phone conversation on a busy street, the passing of a taxi would cause the greatest flashback. I would abruptly drop my phone and stand completely still, outsiders probably wondering what the hell I was doing, not to mention the person on the other line. It was those moments, that flock of memories, which never seemed to be forgotten.

I believe it’s called the psychophysiology of trauma. The body remembers. It’s quite fascinating. And so, even though my memory might be failing me as time passes, my body holds the memories, which in a sense, however tragic, is comforting.

“Yes, you forget,” I replied, smiling, knowing that to me, you’ll always be here, somehow, somewhere, no matter how old I grow.

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From the heart

“It’s okay to be sad,” I said, lightly resting my hand on her fragile shoulder.
She looked at me with puzzled eyes. I repeated my phrase. Her eyes seemed even more perplexed.
“You can cry, you know.” Maybe a reformulation, a concretization would help her understand what I meant. I knew sorrow had a funny way of clouding one’s comprehension.

Minutes passed by and I was debating on whether she had actually understood anything at all. Maybe her hearing was faulty. Just as I was about to repeat my words she suddenly took a deep breath. The movement of her body startled me, as she had stood coldly statuesque the past hour. With dampened tempo and faint crescendo, she finally replied.
“I’m not sure I know how.”

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Abruption

I know it’s the circle of life
That what’s old
Has completed its path
But sometimes I wish it were so
That coming full circle
Was simply put on hold.

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To W

The thing which pained me the most was her honest reflection of her incapability to love. How she envied the ones who could feel, be it heartache or heartbeat. Her words stuck with me. Here I was in the middle of my heartbreak, feeling each stab, and there she was, feeling nothing, not even a pinch. I wondered what was worse. We stood separately, each representing a half of better to have loved and lost than to never having loved at all.
When put in context, my heartache became pitiful and petty. I had loved and I had lost. She had never loved yet she had lost it all. I wanted to try to write down some words of comfort for her but I don’t know if I can. I’m convinced that she will learn how to love one day. And I hope the universe compensates her by never having her lose anyone ever again.

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A photograph

I have this fear that if I don’t see them anymore, it’s as if they’ve never existed.

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