Staring out the window, into a field of dead flowers.
Listening to a song, saying how much I couldn't care.
When, in all reality, I do.
My heart grew cold to your dieing touch.
All of these pictures show me memories of which I don't remember, or could recall.
Happy moments, captured with a flash, then printed onto film,
yet not by heart, mind, nor by my soul.
Traveling throughout life, with nothing more than a false smile.
Almost as if it is painted on my face.
Am I alive?
I cannot see the world as I once did.
No luminous rainbow after the tornado.
Just the destruction after its fury.
The mess I alone have to pick up and assemble again.
The dreams we both had planned for each other.
Turned into nightmares
Or have they always been just that?
Scared to try anew.
Facing my fears alone.
Without guidance, without my leader.
I have seen people lose less than I have.
Yet I imagine their pain is significantly stronger.
I think about how they seemed to have survived,
So I shall survive,
Press on, live for her.
Be what she couldn't.
Be the person my mother should have been.
That is my honest to God biggest Dream and goal for my life.
-
Author:
Isabel Chelisia Villa (
Offline) - Published: February 22nd, 2017 11:26
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 31
Offline)
Comments3
Your life is no longer just your own. It is your's and his. You must go on and live as you think he would want. Your poetic tribute must now become a living tribute. Keep writing. Fulfill your dreams and he will be with you all the way. Beautiful poem. - Phil A.
Well written and expressed Great write
Awesome write, "I cannot see the world as I once did.
No luminous rainbow after the tornado.
Just the destruction after its fury.
The mess I alone have to pick up and assemble again." Love this verse, Brilliant!
thank you
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