I miss my daughters.
I miss our love.
Like a sun without warmth.
Like a plant without water.
I wait, I wait.
time it does not.
I think, I think.
My mind does not stop.
Rolling over and over,
like the wave in each tide.
Always reaching, never reaching.
I am drowning inside.
My soul it does ache.
My heart it is broken.
No chance it is mended.
No words ever spoken.
To me, or to you,
it was always shut down.
Fobade as a sin, the devil does frown.
With that stare I have known, our love turned to stone.
- Author: Hemingway (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: January 9th, 2023 14:09
- Category: Love
- Views: 20
Comments1
I'm so sorry you feel this way, but just know that your words give new life to your emotions.
I don't know your personal life or what you've gone through, but just from reading this display of fragility and pining, I can tell you that there is hope.
As a person who has a tumultuous relationship with my own father, I see where this is coming from.
Sometimes the parent-child relationship we always envision isn't necessarily the one we actually confront.
Much love to you!
Hi,
Thank you so much for your kind words.
Yes I agree that such relationships unfortunately are not always how we envision. It is sad, but like you said there is always hope. Likewise I am sorry that you have had a difficult relationship with your own father. Sending love back your way.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.