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. 
 
 
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Filed under Personal, Thoughts & Poems

Memory

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