Tag Archives: Loss

His Photograph

Every time I look at his photograph 
An album of memories—
Not in black and white, 
Full of colors, 
Full of joy—flashes like real 
Waves, it makes me feel alive. 
Every time I look at his photograph 
I remember his sunny or sullen face, 
His voice, 
His song 
But not his scent; for even 
A withered rose loses its own scent. 
Every time I look at his photograph 
I would hear my mom crying, 
Loud and sad. 
Full of emptiness, 
My heart desires to feel his presence. 
And every day I’m afraid for this to fade. 


Filed under Personal, Thoughts & Poems


All things forgotten
are meant to be remembered
by the heart, the beautiful
and sad.
Like from the moment
I first saw you
and heard you whisper
that song
only my heart could grasp,
I knew life is about
falling in love.
I wanted to be with you
and talk to you
about love and friendship.
I wanted to marry you someday,
spend my days holding your hand,
stay with you each night
while your feet touches mine,
and love the mornings when
I could rest my head on your chest.
A dogging dream,
as I recall it.
It felt like an all-out freedom
to finally wake up from that.
Slowly, I started forgetting
about every song you whispered,
all those smiles you never returned,
and that kind of stares
I only saw in dreams.
Then, one day
I saw your face again
with all the memories flashing back.
It’s more painful. I should have
never seen you again.
Let alone in this state,
in this place.
I was riveted by your
sad, closed eyes,
by the scent of black coffee,
by the tears of your widowed wife.

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Filed under Love Poems