I remember you
Your strong curls and majestic smile
It is hard to put into words all that you mean
To me
And the world
You are everything
A small reminder of good things lost
I try to buy powder to remember but you are not there
Your tiny hands stop me from inhaling
I remember you
Your strong curls and majestic smile
You are my world
My everything.
Heartbreaking Jae as a friend is lost in her dreaming but not in yours as you dream of other days.
ReplyDeleteI remember you
ReplyDeleteYour strong curls and majestic smile
You are my world
My everything.
The good ones would certainly leave an impression!
Hank
Whether to lover, sibling, parent or child we can't tell but the grief is not idle and cannot be assuaged or renewed with powder. Not when the stranger Is "my everything."
ReplyDeleteSo nice, Jae. We sat together in Differential Equations class. I later wrote a poem of her but I never saw her after that semester ended, i don't even remember her name. She had a yellow dog that waited outside the classroom, for its barefoot stringy haired mistress in short cutoffs. She got THE "A", I was amongst the "C's".
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It is hard to lose someone who is "a small reminder of good things lost". Sigh. This is achingly beautiful, my friend. I like the tiny hands stopping the inhaling........
ReplyDeleteI too, like the tiny hands stopping...like a child's hands.
ReplyDeleteincredible.
ReplyDeleteSomehow i see something more than a friend that's lost... maybe the world she belonged to is lost as well.
ReplyDeleteTears on my face! This one was too real! Great job in getting emotions moving.
ReplyDeletepowerfully evocative
ReplyDeleteThis is so painful... For some reason it made me think of someone so filled with grief that would do any thing to escape it, but those tiny hands pull you back to life.
ReplyDeleteHIya Jae and thanks for posting this one to the out of standard. I really like how this piece, though written to a stranger, really lets the reader feel loss. Well done!
ReplyDeleteThe pain in this is raw, brought tears to my eyes. I keep thinking of those tiny hands. Well done.
ReplyDeleteTo be so filled with love - and loss - to want to fill that void. Yet to be saved by the very thing that grieves one so... It makes that love still very real - and meaningful. Wonderful poem.
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