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Table of Contents — Section 5: Grief & Longing

(Italicized titles are prose/vignettes.)

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→Section 1: The Spark & The Pull
→Section 2: Falling In, Falling Hard
→Section 3: The Struggle & The Tension
→Section 4: The Breaking Point
→Section 6: Acceptance & Transformation

Section 5: Grief & Longing 

Vignette: The Fire That Never Fades

Our time has come to an end, she said, I must go. And so she went. Missed, but never ceased to exist in my mind where the thought of her wandered, where dreams came true.

We achieved unity once, one where our hands clasped as sweaty palms met and things wet merged upon the hidden layers of love. I felt in those moments we could bond like the sticky stuff of trees and bees, and how her sweet smiling teeth could make me weak. I melted when she spoke. It’s as if she was an oven baking muffins, always warm inside. She could turn nothing into something. Inside her heart, my eyes died to the world—my eyes belonged to her, possessed me like the chokehold love is known to have.

If I was a broom, she swept me, even used me to fly around at night when her naughty side liked to ride. I loved all of her. Even the blues she tuned me into. Even when the news I didn’t believe was true.

We made songs, some light as a feather, others heavy like Roman pillars sunken deep in seas where eyes no longer see, where memories cease to be. We unraveled deep mysteries together as fantasies of trips overseas met dreams under bedroom sheets.

But our time came to an end. To forget was to heal. At times, remembering helped to heal. The good and bad, it’s all in the past. The laughs we had, the cries of sad, it’s all over now.

Memories get picked and chosen depending on the mood. I can remember when I need to,

and forget when I must.

Some days I wish I didn’t have to remember. Some days I wish we could be. Other days I wish we never met.

Pain is a teacher, emotions a preacher. A phone call, and I could reach her. A voice and my world could crumble deeper. Distance is a healer. To not see her is to please her—a wish my selfish heart can grant, even when something pulls me closer.

Maybe the edge is where I need to be in order to see and believe. Part of me doesn’t want to believe. Love is a moment, a thing that gets lost when life moves along, a thing that frosts when the warmth of a heart is gone.

Did I waste my time learning what love feels like? Could I have done things to make her feel right, forever? Could we have lived long lives together?

Maybe it was all a dream, with an ending of a nightmare. Maybe love is nothing but a hope one wishes to have but pushes away when we think it will always last? Maybe we don’t push, maybe we grow numb as life moves along. Maybe love is a thing we must always nurture like water is to the earth, like the beginning of birth, or the sun, which allows life to breathe.

Love, like life, needs a balance of elements or a quick death is imminent. A love story with an ending. A future no longer conceived or allowed to be. Begging for love that’s now a distant reminiscence. The heart will mourn when it’s been torn. Best to remember it like the sweet seasonal corn of summer, than the thorns which adorned the flower that ripped my skin and made it bleed.

The heart no longer needs once it’s healed. Where vision once blurred is now clear to see. Will you believe me next time we meet? Out in the street, a glance to a greet. A smile no longer sweet to the taste, only sweet for a wishful fate, for your heart to never ache.

Like wine, which gets better with time, we’ll never know. Only know the love was real. A deal made with God but stolen from the Gods. A meal that satisfied me in ways that envied the Gods. They stole you away. My wish, a place where you’ll want to stay. Grow old and healthy, it would bless me. It would caress me in ways you never have. A love I wish I had. A blast from the past will one day cross our paths, and when it does, I hope old love will silently hug, invisibly, without words, plead, or hurt—just a buzz felt deep, like the nights we slept close, listening to the wood crackle in the fireplace as snow outside glowed in the moonlight, and your cheeks warmed on the side of mine.

It was a simple delight worth more than gold and ice.

I wouldn’t trade it for the world, other than the moments that could’ve changed our fate for eternal unity. But there were too many twists and turns in our world of hurt. To decode the past with a subjective memory is a task I was destined to fail. And to endure your existence would’ve been to burn an eternity in isolation of your affection. You were the hell I chose to accept when our struggles continued to manifest. The bed I made and committed myself to. I believed we could one day walk together again, hand in hand, like the beginning of our communion. I was loyal, even if it stripped my dignity and honor. Because love is supposed to endure—selflessness, even if it leads to one’s own demise. Or else, where is the honor? Where is the duty? To look away is to be a coward. To walk away is to lack fortitude and courage.

I had made my decision to never turn my back. My naivety only led to pain. A man accepts his struggles as a test. You were my test, and I was your jest. Two opposing intentions. Maybe it wasn’t always that way between us. But somewhere along the line, the wine grew bitter, sour to the taste—a close cousin of hate. Love no longer allowed the body to loosen like the drunk feeling one has when captivated by another. Instead, the emotions developed into the impulses of the drunkard incapable of envisioning the future.

We were walking sutures—embalmed mummies alive looking for a way out. One of us was in the coffin while the other desperately attempted to scratch away the marble tomb with fingers. A violent, desperate attempt to hold on to life. One fighting to get out, while the other fighting in. Death was slow. Words were heard, but no God came to save us.

Our blessing was life after death. A second chance to walk among humans with past lessons of wounds. Have you truly healed yet? Will memories hold you down and drown you out of breath?

Now is the time to live, even if life seems bleak. Even if hope has turned its back on you. So long as self conquers internal struggles, death will be viewed as a blessing—a chance at renewal no matter how dark the path appears. To fear the unknown is normal. To fear of perceived torture is normal.

Letting go was my enemy. But letting go is the misunderstood voice of reason. Letting go is death—a necessary path in a world not meant to be fully understood. A path meant for experience and inspiration. A path meant to develop. A road no one knows the end to, even if they devoutly believe their ideas are true.

Stand if you can, and crawl if you have to. Speak if you can, or motion your thoughts if you have to. If you can breathe, you can do something about it. If you can see or feel, you’ve been blessed with an opportunity to marvel at your existence—a precious gift of an ordered chaos.

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A Love That Transcends Time

(Love does not always belong to the present. Some loves exist beyond time itself, stitched into memory, beyond reach, yet never truly lost.)

I sometimes wonder—did we really lose each other, or did time simply pull us apart?

I feel her in quiet moments, in the spaces where longing lingers but does not ache. In the way a song can turn back time. In the way a space once shared still holds the warmth of skin, as if she’s there—not a ghost, but something more.

Some loves do not vanish. They imprint themselves, refusing to be unraveled.

There are days I am convinced that somewhere, in some other version of life, we stayed. We built the home we once whispered about. We grew into the dreams we never dared to claim.

But in this life, we had only a moment—one that still pulls me, one that still breathes beneath my skin.

Perhaps love does not end. Perhaps it waits.

(And if love is waiting, then somewhere, I am still holding her hand.)

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A Love Beyond Time

(poem about devotion, unfulfilled dreams, and eternal love that never fades)

I always wanted to be the right thing. But I fear I may never be good enough.

If only a noble nature were as true as the feelings that arise when thinking of you, in an instant, I would be good. You remind me I’m a fool, but not in a cruel way. You remind me with your grace and the way you behave. You’re a flow that glows, and a shock I can’t stop.

You’re a magnetic pull, with a lock of a knot. With your heart on my watch, I would never drop the clock. With your thoughts in my embrace, I would always keep you safe. 

You change me with unspoken words. Your eyes speak colors of emotions, silent codes that alter the actions of my concerns. You’re a scent to consume, always in bloom. A fresh breath of air, and a garden of Eden.

When your body broke space and the waves you created gently fell upon my face—bones gave in to flesh, melting a stone in my chest. What was hard is now a lovely mess. Your hands, my only nest. I would give you my best, as I’m a soul yearning for your yes. I do, as I believe our love is true.

You give life—a dream I believe in. You’re the purpose I seek. You’re the love I never had. You’re a moment that will never pass. Take my heart and eat it if you need it. My blood is your armor. To protect you is my honor.

Though we may never build a home and grow old together, know I found my love the day we met. Our time knew only truth. Somewhere in a different time, I have you. It’s one of the only things that comforts me when I think of you—a different story with a different end.

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The Pull of What Once Was

(poem about longing, memory, heartbreak, and what remains of love)

It took years to slip away.
It took a moment to fall in love.
We both moved on.
We had to.
I hope I’m not alone to reminisce.
I think about her.
The strong emotions have passed.
The obsession has gone.
Tears form remembering the passion.
We could’ve had a life together.
Now all she will ever be is a memory.

In my heart she exists.
Her soft skin, which touched my hands.
Her delicate grip.
Her plump lips, which kissed my lips.
I desperately attempted to capture her scents,
hoping I could forever treasure them. 
Our bodies wrapped in arms.
Gentle hugs with little tugs, ever so nearer.

I didn’t want to let go for fear of losing her. 
I remember walking backwards when I’d leave her.
I never looked away.
I could have fallen, and all would have been ok.
My heart found a nest beneath her chest, 
a vortex of affection, a direction I accepted. 

Late-night whispers wished for a love to go deeper.
There was a tension that could stop breathing.
Stuck in a moment.
To freeze kept me dreaming. 
Comfortable shivers holding on to meaning.
A burning desire to melt and merge. 
When I breathed, it felt like a fight to exist—
a desperate attempt to survive.
Every heartbeat, a million miles of hope. 
The feeling of love when wishing to become one.
But now, all I have is the memory of that wish. 
I loved her.

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Trapped in the Remains of Love

(Some loves do not die. They decay, they erode, they slip into the cracks of time, but something of them remains—embedded in the walls of memory, in the spaces where echoes refuse to fade.)

I have lived with the weight of what was. Some days, it settles quietly, allowing me to move. Other days, it pulls like an undertow, dragging me beneath the surface of now, back into what could have been.

There is no escape from a love that never fully left. It lingers, reshaping itself into the details of my days—the scent of the air after rain, the shadow of a smile on a stranger’s face, the warmth of an old song.

I do not chase it, but I do not run.
I simply carry it.

(And maybe, in some way, it carries me, too.)

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Buried, Yet Alive Reflection

(poem about heartbreak, emotional entrapment, despair, and fading hope)

Every year she buried me. It felt like quicksand, sinking deeper. Every year I dug my way out. A game of hide and seek. I was a man on fire looking for relief. Sinking while in flames, an agonizing defeat. Resisting felt like duty, a mission. At times I thought external elements buried me in the ground. It’s as if something had possessed her mind. She was my love, the gift of destiny I believed in.

If only I could dig my way out, born of ashes, she would hear me. Buried as I was, I had no plea, no voice that could sink deep. Only misery and despair. Every time I felt I was getting closer, I found myself knee-deep without feet. She was running away, and I was stuck. There were times our hands met—a gentle touch, a remembrance of love. The sensation of her skin gave me hope. Maybe what I thought was hope was simply a rope.

Something to steady me, or to snare and choke me? Intrusive thoughts seemed to consume her, impulses manipulated her mind—or so it felt.

And so the story goes of two lovers making the distance, but not the winning streak. It was a love drawn out, which reached the peak of indifference. A love lost, as if it never existed. Days of wishing for a “maybe” have passed away now, gone with ashes in the wind. 

Wishes do die. Will I ever wish again? Will love ever become my center again? Maybe it’s safer to leave it out of my inner circle where emotions are safe. Let dreams lie on the edge, so I can live again. No sorrows. Only a hollow emptiness—and a hope that, one day, I might fill the void again.

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The Beat that Remains

(poem about memory, enduring love, and devotion that survives loss)

Old memories buried, wanting a piece of today.
Things that hurt reappear.
Forgotten hopes and fears manifested.
Love words that remain true.
Letters clinging to the past.
Lotions of emotions.
Wishful thinking.
A shooting star and a broken heart.
I still love her.

My dream came true but only for a few moons.
A play about love with many gray days.
A heart found its home when you replied with a yes.
You were gone too soon.
I wanted you, not for a moment but for as long as my bones would last.
If love has two parts—the physical and the mental,
then your love has never left my mind—a spirit that insists.

Inside me and around me you persist—
more than a memory could ever kiss.
You are that “it,” the very thing that makes my heart tick.
It’s a beat I can’t beat with words—
a song I’ve grown used to.
A rhythm that keeps me moving towards you.
An everlasting dance.
I will always love you.

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Nature, Memory, and Love’s Imprints

Some places do not just exist—they remember.

A mountain trail, a bird’s song, the way light filters through the trees—all of it, carrying echoes of what once was. Love leaves its mark not only in hearts, but in the landscapes where it was felt. Waterfalls still rush where we once stood, sun-warmed rocks still hold the heat of afternoons spent together. Even now, years later, the wind carries traces of voices, laughter, whispered words meant only for that moment.

Maybe love is like that—woven into nature itself, into rivers that never stop flowing, into trails that lead back to memory. Maybe we never truly leave the places where love once lived. Maybe they never let go of us, either.

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Nine Miles to Memory

(a memory about nature, and emotional reflection on a journey)

“The hike was nine miles today. I hated life going up. But I got to drink mountain water, saw the tree of life, froze under a waterfall, and witnessed breathtaking landscapes. The journey truly felt like a fantasy game through the woods—occasionally seeing people and saying hi, little flowers growing on the sides, the moss, and the spring green of the leaves. The steep rocky paths—God, it sucked. But in hindsight, it was worth it.”

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Birdsong and Silent Words

(poem about love, memory, nature, and longing tied to shared experiences)

As I stood around thinking of you,
my eyes looked down to seek a little bird’s sound.
It was a magical moment to observe it being itself.
It hopped as it walked. It sang as it talked.
Just like you when you walk and talk.

I felt like a protective hawk
wishing we could fly together,
discover things so our memories can last forever.
Do you remember the time we climbed,
hiked and bathed under a waterfall’s rain?

The water was so cold it made our skin
stick out like porcupine pins,
while the sun’s loving rays warmed us like buttermilk biscuits.
A taken-for-granted treat, we all seem to eat.
We even saw the tree of life, captured pictures with our eyes as light bounced off its leaves
to reveal glowing colors of green and gold.
It was radiating like a fluorescent business sign
one might find in city streets.
But this tree didn’t want our money or make appeals.
It simply stood to show us what natural wonders the earth reveals.

As we continued upward it felt like an eternity’s hike
as the climb took time to reach its never-ending sight.
But all felt well as we blended within trees
whose branches and leaves protected our skin
like a mother’s nurture.
At the top, a magical lake revealed itself
with up-close mountain peaks, and ice shining bright
like diamonds scattered on a fantasy beach.
We took time to marvel at the world.
Hardly any words were ever heard.
What was felt was kept.
A feeling of one under the sun.
I wished the moment never to end, to never die,
as it made me feel born again.

As this memory fades today, so does the bird fly away.
It stuck around for a moment to bless me with its sight and sound.
Something I hope to remember,
since you’re no longer around.

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The Moment of Realization

Loss does not come all at once. It seeps in, slow, quiet, like a tide pulling back without notice—until you look up, and the shore is gone.

I thought I could outrun it, rewrite it, pretend the story had a different ending. But truth is patient. It waits in the silence, in the spaces where denial weakens and reality unfolds. Love, in its absence, reveals more than it ever did in presence.

I had been a prisoner, believing love was only what I lost. But in the wreckage, something else emerged. A new way of seeing. A new way of knowing.

Pain had stripped me down, but in its place, I found beauty.

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A Prisoner’s Gaze

(poem about unrequited love, jealousy, longing, and emotional pain)

You were transfixed, subtle and true,
bright like a night on a full moon.
Your eyes, wide open, blooming
like a flower on a honeymoon.

Your teeth, protected like precious pearls,
now sparkled for the world.
Your smile, 
sweet like an ice cream vanilla swirl,
could be felt and heard,
like the tremble of mother earth giving birth.

And yet, here I stood like a prisoner,
kept away from my home.
I was witnessing your eyes and smile,
intended for another.

Your soft touch, rich like a gold rush,
can make dreams come true and quiet
my soul to a hush,
now broken as you touch another man’s blush.

I looked away thinking the pain would go away.
I made up lies like a fool drunk on wine.
I went home alone and looked at my phone.
I denied for many nights, lost in my plight.

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Two Stars Capturing Hearts 

(poem about longing, memory, love as art, and emotional intensity)

Eyes looking out 
to hopefully see within.
My everyday wish: just to begin.
Something new, so I can run.

I want to sprint, but my feet are fixed.
I can’t feel the wind as my feet won’t lift.

If I could break the chains, I’d take you away.
Up until two while I think of you.
Your smile keeps me awake.
It’s the way you move.
A swan in a pond, a majestic display.

There was a time we danced the night away.
A Broadway play about a love tension.
A movie about stars capturing hearts.

Loving you was like a best motion picture 
with blockbuster highs and romantic heartbreaks.

No other story could make me feel this way.
Surges hit when I glance at the past
like a movie real rewinding fast.

I think of you when moods feel gloomy
and darkness turns to blue like a flower blooming. 
Vivid dreams come back to renew.

My eyes don’t seek
when you’re a presence that can be felt.
You’re a clue to beauty which makes my heart melt.

You’re the ending scene I’d never reshoot,
the one final take I’d never dispute.
You’re a love unshaken, an absolute truth—
a romance that’s now Gone with the Wind. 

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Love, Fate, and the Unknown

Fate does not ask permission. It moves like an unseen tide, shifting the course of a life before you’ve even realized the shore is gone.

There was a time I believed love was an anchor, something that could steady me against the unknown. But love is just as much a current—it pulls, it carries, it drags you to places you never intended to go.

I thought I knew where we were headed. I thought I understood what we were. But fate has a way of revealing what we refuse to see.

And so, I found myself staring into the past, into the spaces where echoes still lived, into the eyes I thought were yours but weren’t—where memory and reality blurred, where recognition became a trick of the light.

Perhaps love is never lost, only misplaced in time. Perhaps fate does not steal—it only leads us where we were always meant to go.

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The Unseen Truth in Shadows

(poem about heartbreak, grief, fate, and painful acceptance)

If fate can break a man’s will,
and what is real is only an ideal, until what is truly real is revealed,
then I must flow and forever go to depths that break hope,
and seek comfort in unknown zones.

In darkness lies something greater than hope.
In darkness lies truth and fear—two things we sometimes wish disappeared.

I see a pair of eyes in the distance.
No nose or smile, just eyes obscured by a plant on a countertop.
The eyes meet mine—I think it’s you.

I smile but my eyes land upon a distant place,
it isn’t you.
It’s someone else’s gaze intended for another.

The moment reminds me of an end
where I treasured the ride of your mind, 
and the unknown gave me cold feet as I
awakened to mysteries that lingered, 
unsettling and deep.

Like a lone survivor in an endless ocean,
when swells get big, it’s too late to swim. 
The body goes to sleep 
while the heart pumps to breathe. 
The muffled sounds will speak 
as water seeps too deep. 
Nothing left to see. 

My death to you was an agonizing defeat.
A pain that remains
no matter how many pretty faces I meet.

Your face was the only one for me.
A wish god took away so I could finally breathe.

There was a time I would’ve rather die
than meet your end.
Now I look up, and say amen.

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Echoes of a Lost Love

(poem about grief, memory, longing, and the pain of lost love)

I don’t know if I’ll ever love the way I loved you.
You were my light.
I would’ve given you my soul.
A sacrifice of myself would’ve been a blessing.
Whatever love I gave wasn’t enough.
It felt like you thrived on my blood.

Your desires, your only wish.
A tool I was.
A makeshift man created with calculated acts, gentle smiles, 
and finished with an ax.
Everything was a plan, and you carefully played your hand…

Oh sweet so and so…
How we could’ve grown old and planted trees on a country home.
Fished the streams in a Skagit County zone.
And never feel alone with my heart for yours to own…

I would’ve loved you until the end of time.
Until the sound of two dimes clashing ceased to chime, 
or rhyme, at the times we spent together.

I would’ve walked on hot coals to blister my feet,
just to say it wasn’t a feat, but a duty to care for the woman whose air I tried to never despair.

Farewell to the love of my life who once cared for a moment.
It was short-lived but memorable.
Forever close to my heart you will reside.
But never again inside.

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The Beauty of What Remains

(Love does not disappear—it changes form. What was once held in arms is now held in memory, pressed between the pages of time, like a petal kept between the pages of a book.)

In Quebec City, I once traced her footsteps in the first light of morning, the old stone streets still slick from the night’s quiet rain. The cafés were just opening, the scent of fresh bread seeping into the air. I walked without destination, only following a feeling—one that still lingered, even in her absence.

Love remains in places. It lingers in the air, in the quiet corners where we once sat, in the echoes of laughter that no longer sound. I passed the café where we met, half-expecting to see her there, caught between past and present.

She was not there. But something of her was.

Perhaps love does not need presence to exist. Perhaps it is like the autumn leaves—brilliant in their fading, beautiful in their falling. A love that has passed is still a love that was. And sometimes, that is enough.

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True Colors Remain

(poem about memory, love, longing, and the lasting emotions tied to color)

Orange hues as the leaves are leaving.
Yellow for what used to be green.
Red for the times we met.
Rain aids to wash things away.
And the wind, cool on the skin as the season changes.

But the feelings don’t change when I think of you.
All of your colors remain true—
even the blue when I couldn’t be with you.
All of your shades could ease my mood,
even when my heart jumped at clues. 

I can reminisce of your kiss for the feeling of bliss.
The pace of your breath warming my skin.
The ground and the sounds. The air. The swears.
I had to let go against my will.
A love not allowed.

A memory of you is all I have left.
No more colors to observe.
Everything has returned to earth.
You were the love I wished for,
a dream that came true—
a gift taken away that I can’t accept.

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A Love Beneath the Petals

(poem about memory, love, longing, and the lasting emotions tied to color)

I feel like an ant
observing a beautiful, towering flower.

High up above you are.
I can see you but can’t speak,
as our languages are different.

My home, the dirt,
is where you came from.
I know you can remember.

Maybe that’s what made you pretty.
You possess a sweet smell aimed at the trees—
a gift they all take for granted.

I have to climb from down below
to experience your power—
the scent that makes humans bend.

But unlike the others,
I can get close.
Closer than a nose will ever know,
same with the eyes.

I can see inside you
without any special equipment.

Unlike the big leaves above,
we are meant to see each other.
If only we could be together.

You’re beautiful, and I’m ugly.
But I can carry twenty times my weight.
I’d carry you any day.

I’m little, you might say—
but don’t forget,
I remember the way you came.

I watched you grow.
I kept insects and rodents away
while you found your way.

I always have,
and I always will.

But as much as I adore you,
fate has a different way for us.
We can never be more than what we are—
a nature’s curse.

You’ll always be something afar,
even though I’ll always keep you close.

My love won’t vanish.
It simply can’t exist as we wish.

I’m no bumblebee.
No wings to fly.
And I’m not built
to pollinate right.

But I’ll try—
’cause it’s my nature too,
even though the rain
will wash me away.

I’m okay
with whatever comes my way.
You’re worth it.

More than all the hopeless pain
that will come with it.

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The Final Reflection

(Some loves stay with you, shaping the way you see the world. Others leave only ghosts, lingering where they are no longer welcome.)

There are memories I choose to keep, and those I wish had never touched me. Some loves remain untarnished—beautiful, even in their distance. Others, I let slip through my fingers like sand, wishing I had never held them at all.

One love drifts, gentle as autumn leaves, carried by time but never lost. I hold it close, not in my hands, but in the quiet spaces of memory—where light still touches it, where it remains something pure.

And then, there are those other memories—the ones that stain, that claw, that remind me of what I once allowed. Not all love deserves to last. Some are meant to be unlearned.

I am not the man I was. And I will not carry what was never mine to hold.

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Unwanted Memory

(a memory I no longer wish, but still had to release)

Feelings fade as memories do.
The gray brings the rain
until noon becomes blue.
Each day’s a different tune—
though some days stick.
Like crazy glue.

If I could start my life again,
but keep the lessons I learned—
what would I do?..

Would I lie when I lied?
Or cry when I cried?
Would I have chased the same fate,
knowing the love that I loved
would fill my heart with hate?

How many days would pass
before the lightbulbs flash to say:
“Hey. Some people are just snakes.”

Maybe the winters weren’t cold enough—
because I’ve been known
to make the same mistakes.

I don’t want to, though.
All I wanted was you—
or the new you,
to meet the new me.

Because I think—
we were meant to be.

But it isn’t.
And it will never be.

You’ll simply be—
a memory.

One I wish I’d never known.
One I wish to never clone.
One I wish had never persisted.
One I wish never existed.

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The Heart She Floats In

(poem about longing, memory, love as music, and devotion through pain)

Quiet and still like a cat on a window sill.
Eyes locked in a moment like a movie in slow motion.
She’s a muse when she moves, a melodic dance that enchants.

There’s a hypnotic flow in the way she steps, movements I wish I knew.
I’m speechless, out of reach, stuck in a moment—
a jaw trapped in tree sap and my feet feel frozen.

She’s magic and a tragedy—a spell I can’t master.
Vibrations flood my pain and veins when she speaks.
My heart pumps harder with every note and octave.
There’s music being played,
a symphony of healing, an orchestra of meaning,
soothing sound waves that enter and bleed in.

Every second is a minute. 
Every beat is a heat wave that emits from deep—
a pulse yearning for her venom.
She’s a beautiful poison I’d give my life to.
Beads of sweat reject regrets. Salty liquids make decisions.

I cast a trap like a fisherman’s net.
I can prove her existence with one more breath.

A mermaid swims away. The air I breathe can only bring her despair.
The world she seeks is a place I can’t be.

If love is a moment then I have loved a woman—
one with fins that allowed her to swim,
and one with skin which slipped from my grip.

If only dreams came true, she could walk on land,
and I could breathe like she beneath. 
My only soul is the heart she floats in.
My only life is her love I’ve chosen.

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Lips of Memory, Eyes Once Loved

(poem about grief, heartbreak, lost love, and the pain of betrayal)

What have I become?
I caught feelings.
I chased words.
I pursued action through verbs.

I chased words seeking meaning through her. 
I was unheard, but I expressed.
I let my chest breathe to stop the screams.
I closed my eyes so I could see.
I let my mind drift through possibilities.
I wept until the wet lingered on my lips –
a distant kiss I wish to forget. 
A fate I’ve wished my soul to accept. 

What was seen was a decoy – an unpleasant surprise. 
What was heard were lies – emotions will die. 
What was felt was believed – a truth ill conceived.

What are we if our senses can’t detect?
Fools for love. 
Visions sublime.
But if we don’t submit, we’ll never know why.
Voyage of demise. 
Love is truly blind.
Relinquish the pain, hold nothing in vain.

Life unfolds as a process and journey.

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Whispers of a Fading Bloom

(poem about fading love, grief, longing, and emotional struggle to let go)

A dying love as life moves on.
Buried wishes—we must carry on.
Weight wants to shift—lessen the load.
Feelings grow numb as our fate is unknown.

One year has passed since we parted our ways.
I try to hold on as our memories fade.
I’m your treasure to keep, for moments you weep.
A safe space, where you can find peace.
I’m your gentle ears, for the tears of fear.
I feel myself drifting, afraid you’re not near.

How will I remain if I never feel your lips,
your grip, the curves in your hips?
Every few months, I see you for minutes,
then kiss your hand, go home and relive it.

How can we bloom without room for our roots?
Our flowers can’t thrive without water to breathe.
I need your substance; I kneel to feel.
I plead, but our time cannot be.

I refuse to believe it was all a mistake.
You’ve inspired me in ways to reach deep within.
My love—you are the woman whose hug
has ripened my blood.

Forever sweet, within your shadows I’ll swim—
and in our hearts and hands lies a beautiful sin.

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Reflections on Love’s Lessons

(Love shapes. Love teaches. But love, above all, remains—whether as warmth or as a wound, whether as a whisper or a weight.)

Not all love is meant to last, but all love leaves something behind.
Some loves soften you. Some loves scar. Some loves make you see yourself for the first time.

Time has a way of revealing love’s true form. What once felt like fate may have only been an illusion. What once seemed cruel may have been necessary. Some moments I hold close—because they deserve to be cherished. Others, I release—because they were never mine to keep.

I have learned that love is not always about holding on. 

Sometimes, it is about knowing when to let go.

But love—when it is real—never truly dies.

(And maybe that is the hardest lesson of all.)

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Time Together

(poem about memory, longing, devotion, and the timeless nature of love)

Time together doesn’t exist,
yet at the same time, goes so fast.

I want you close—skin to skin, eye to eye—
to feel the breath of your mind
as you whisper romance,
love stories to one day reminisce as
“Once Upon a Time.”

I remember your eyes—
a flirt my heart could feel—
eyes with a desired intention.

To speak was to push air that let things grow.
To breathe pulled us closer,
consuming the air—
nowhere to go.

Breathe me in.

Let me live within you as air does.
I belong with you as air is meant to do—
you complete me with your breathing.

With your smile as the sun
for landscapes to grow roses,
we united our minds to suspend time
when love chose us.

I would have drank your tears
for our love to flow,
or damned them near
when fear appeared.

No screams or impulses of pain,
only warmth after bouts of rain.

I will forever remain by your side—
even when life forced me to say goodbye.

Close your eyes when you need me close.
I am the whisper of your choice—
the words you need when you need relief,
the sounds that seek to speak.

True love never dies.
I am always close.

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Fading Love, Eternal Memory (Part 1 of 2)

(poem about grief, longing, lost love, and emotional memory that endures)

What is memory but a lost moment?
An event taken for granted.
A feeling lost in time.
A moment never to exist again.

What would you do differently if you knew how much you’d long for an experience again?
What would you say?
How would you act?
How would you feel?

In the moment, you never fear losing what you have.
The moment feels like an eternity.
What would you give to have a moment back that has now turned sour and ugly?

I think of her, and I want to hate—but hate is just a shield, a last-ditch effort at self-preservation.
What am I trying to preserve—the love I gave away?
I gave her my heart.
I gave her my soul.
I gave to her what was not mine to give.
I was no longer wanted, but still, I longed to belong to her.

Maybe one day I’ll move on.
But after all these years, love lingers.

She was the one—
her ways,
her voice,
her temperament,
the connection of minds,
the feeling of unity.
The desire to keep the moment from slipping away.

I loved her before we ever met, from the moment my soul knew what it sought in a woman.
And when I saw her, I knew she was the one.

So I pursued her—in words, in learning her, in sharing what I had to give.
I traveled 3,000 miles to be with her.
If you asked me today, I’d travel 3,000 miles again, knowing it would fail—for just one more beautiful moment.

For what is the purpose of living if not to know the depths of love?
It’s beautiful.
It’s painful.
Above all, it’s beautifully painful.

[NAME], I always loved you,
even when you didn’t understand me.
Even when we disagreed.
Even when I felt you fade away,
I always loved you.
I would watch you fade away 1,000 times for one moment of your love.
For when I was with you, a minute was an eternity.

Could you ever love me again?
Maybe it’s best you never love me again.
I may try my whole life for your love again.

I remember singing my soul to you when you wanted me out.
I had only a moment to tell you what I felt.
I dropped to my knees, emptied my soul.
My life was yours to keep.
I begged for your hand.

In a desperate plea, I let out my soul that still rings true today.
I felt you coming back, and I felt you fade away.
I won you back eventually, but we never fully healed.


I believed I only needed more time to become the man you once saw in me.

Loving you taught me how ugly I am.
Loving you pushed me to be a better man.
In retrospect, loving you was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I’m torn between memories that make me want to hate,
and memories that want to love.

Maybe I should thank you.
Maybe what we all need is to
have our hopes crushed so that we can forge the quality of our being.
Maybe love is meant to fade away so that we can continue to fight for it.

I may never know the answers to questions I don’t fully understand,
but I’ll keep asking.

Why do we hold onto love that fades?
Is it because of who we were in those moments,
or who we hoped to become?

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Part 2: Love’s Truths and Fears

(poem about love’s truth, grief, vulnerability, and the power of longing)

Be forewarned:
Love will wear down souls.
Love will bend even the strongest beliefs.
Love is an ultimate truth.

When love finds you,
it’s heaven on earth.
When love vanishes,
It can bury every wish and dream.

Love is vulnerability.
Love is admiration.
Love can drive a person mad
in its pursuit of oneness.

Why else do we chase soulmates
if not for the promise of divine unity?

Love can replace pain with empathy,
turn dark into light.
Yet, when it’s taken away,
it rips the soul apart.

Why does it hurt so much
when love is lost?

Maybe love is something we’re meant to give,
a gift for those who give more than they receive.

Maybe love exists when our hearts choose
not to fear.

To have no fear
is to fully live.

Seek, and you may find.
Desire, and you may die
to things once known.

New life awaits
for those who dare venture into the unknown.

(Grief does not disappear. It lingers as memory, changing shape over time—softer, quieter, waiting to be seen through a fresh pair of eyes.)

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