Reminiscing can be sweet yet sickening
like milk that has curdled.
The past returns, its pulse still beating.
We cradle memories, bright but blistering,
pretending their edges never cut or stung.
Enveloping ourselves in their whispering.
We edit the scenes, make grief feel less like reckoning,
mute the conversations where we said something wrong;
Yet the nagging of our crimes continue their soft beckoning.
Time plays tricks, its mercy always flickering,
warming the ache, that thumps in our chests
then proves the warmth was only dithering.
What once felt solid is now splintering.
A ghost of us that swears it still belongs;
haunting the corners of the selves we are now presenting.
So let’s reminisce the love, the loss, the lingering
of memory’s charm: bitter, bright, and long.
Savoring the ache it brings to humanity.
-
Author:
M.E.M. (
Offline) - Published: April 22nd, 2026 09:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Created: 2/5/26, Edited/Finalized: 4/22/26. Comments welcome
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 6
Offline)
Comments2
A poem that reads well both as to content and rhythm. Nicely penned
Thank you. It felt like it needed to have rhythm and a rhyme to it.
You are most welcome
Definitely two kinds of memories. In broad terms, the ones which make me feel warm and comfortable, sometimes triumphant. Then there are the toe curlers...
Over the years I've become slightly more reflective about these and labelled them as experience gained.
Your piece differentiates nicely.
Good to see you back here.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.