WildMoonChild

Watching from above

Isn’t it funny, how you’re always too busy,

Until it’s too late.

But have the audacity to stand at my funeral and boast of how I was great.

And tell everyone who will listen of how you’ll miss me forever, but I can’t remember the last time we shared a day together.

And you’ll kiss my photograph, beside your bed, and maybe even a few tears might shed, but more for the guilt that plays in your head, more for your self-pity that lingers to be fed.

You’ll be showered in hugs, and words of comfort and love, and be told of how I’ll always watch you from the above. How I’ll be there with you every step of the way, from the break of light to the end of the day. You’ll look at them, all doe eyed and quiet, hiding the truth of your internal riot.

You’ll sit by the sea, and think of me, and what we could be doing, the endless possibilities constantly brewing, a web of thoughts and endless emotions strewing, months of denial slowly undoing.

And they’re right, I am watching you from above, I am watching out of disbelief, not out of love.

Who have you become?

Comments3

  • G84

    Awesome rhyming, a cousin was once killed and people who barely knew him did the same - frustrating to say the least.

    Love your style of writing

    • WildMoonChild

      Tragic to watch who comes out of the wood work just so they get some kinda pity and attention, sad really. Sorry for your loss all the same, and thank you for your comments x

      • G84

        It was a long time ago now but thank you :)

      • Unobtrusive Sun

        I love it. It testifies to the reality of love vs want.
        You've spoken to me personally! Thanks!

        • WildMoonChild

          Thats kind of you to say, thank you x

        • Tamara Beryl Latham - The Poet

          What you write is true. Yet, in some cases people are afraid to show emotion and when they experience the loss of a loved one, they exhibit feelings of guilt, rather than love.

          Nicely written with images that coincide with the rhythm of the poem. :-)



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