i have stopped scrubbing the glass
every spot tells a small story
the marks water leaves behind linger
once i wished them to vanish unseen
proof isn’t always in the clarity
sometimes it is in the leftover haze
a smudge that whispers of hands held
a faint line speaking of what burned
you call the mess unkempt and careless
i call it the memory of my living
to erase the stains feels like forgetting
to leave them is a prayer for permanence
what is left behind is not shameful
what remains is evidence of the fire
even in silence the watermarks speak
even in the break something blossoms
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2025 09:59
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
great write, enjoyed
Thanks Norman I appreciate your feedback and support
most welcome
There is a preoccupation with cleanliness from antibacterial soaps to cleaning products that remove all stains. Who wants to live in a sterile environment. Have we grown that afraid? Good write
Well written, the poem explores the theme of memory and the significance of imperfections as markers of lived experiences. It emphasizes that the remnants of the past, represented by watermarks and smudges, are not to be erased but cherished as evidence of one's existence and emotional journey.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.