I think of the pure indulgence,
The joy of mirth,
The feeling of freedom.

I think of how I saw it in her eyes,
In her expression.

All of these things came together and formed what we call a smile.

I think of the dimples in her cheeks,
The soft skin I loved to kiss.

I think of her full lips,
And the hair she had that was never stiff.

I think of how
When she enjoyed chocolate,
There would always be some left
On the corners of that beautiful smile.

I reminisce
Upon the beautiful times we spent together.

The feeling of her fingers intertwined in mine,
Her tired head being rested on my shoulder,
And a smile—
A rare smile.

This smile was like no other.
It was not the one she gave to people when they complimented her,
Or the smile she gave when she received a gift.

This smile
Was the smile she wore
When she was with me.

A special smile,
One only for me.

Oh, how I miss her lips,
And her quick, determined smile—
It was slightly crooked, but that made it all the more beautiful.

Oh, how I miss her confidence,
The perfect posture and easiness.

Oh, how I miss her hair,
Because even when thrown up without a care,
It landed perfectly—
Every hair.


And oh—
Oh how I miss her other side.

The one she hides,
But not with lies.

This is the side
She shows to me
When we are both
Very lonely.

She tried and tried with all her might,
But she could not do so on that lonely night.

That night,


She decided to give up the fight.


Oh, how I miss her,



Naked and vulnerable



On that December night.

It has shattered.
It has shattered, but I put it back together.
It should be back together, right?
Right?


So how come it feels more broken than ever?

The door is oddly unlocked
As I turn the **** subconsciously
For whatever reason.

It creaks open,
And the soft afternoon light
Suddenly becomes blinding.

The floorboards twist,
Turn,
And scream under my weight.

And it begins to feel like
Someone’s been here before.


But I shrug it off
As if it’s nothing,
And keep going.

I send my feet to the living room
Step
By
Step,

Someone’s definitely been here.


But I shrug it off,
Not fully believing it’s nothing.
But nonetheless I keep going

into the living room.
Yes, that is where my feet go.

My eyes cannot fully register what is going on.


A scene out of a tragic painting,

Blood is dripping from the curtains hanging.


And there it lays—
The thing of ultimate dismay.

My mother,
The one who birthed me,
The one who raised me,
And the only one who loved me

is dead.

More dead than the ants we step on from time to time.

More dead than those who came before me
Hundreds of years ago.

More dead
Than my soul could ever be.

My mother,
A tapestry painted with blood,
Lays there

Desolate and beautiful.

A tear streaks her face,
As if to say,
“Why must you leave me in this place?”

I suddenly feel
That I’ve seen that look on her face.

I close my eyes,
As if it were all a bad dream,
Hoping to wake
And have some coffee with cream.

But I open my eyes to my mother’s demise,
And my ears start hearing
The sound of my own screaming.

The tears keep coming,
And she feels nothing.

She’s been stabbed
By someone who feels like me
repeatedly.
Blood spills out of her wounds
And I suddenly feel
That it once coated me.

The tears keep coming,
But I say nothing.



This tapestry
Was painted in blood.


And the artist,
I sickeningly realize,




Was none other





            than me.

I remember that day,
That faithful day.

The day I fell in love with you.
Right under that cherry tree,
The petals falling on our heads,
That day I looked into your eyes.

That faithful day brought about many moments of sorrow.
Some people chose to move on from us,
Like petals floating away with the wispy gusts of wind.

Those who chose to stay
And support us,
They are truly special.
Like rare flowers only found in the Spring.

But even if no one was left,
I would never leave you.
For we are a flower that never dies,
A tree that is never felled,
An unending embrace.

So even if there are no petals left on the sakura trees,
And all the flowers have been plucked,
We will still stay,
Our love unchanged.

Throughout the harsh winter
And the drought of summer,
We will never die.

When tests of strength are sprung upon us by the gods of the Earth,
We will stand firmly,
Implanted in the soft soil.

In the field of battle you are the sword,
Strong and courageous,
And I will be the shield,
Protecting you with the strength of my spirit and at your weakest points,
Even if blood were to rain from the sky,
And the tall, creamy pillars of this world were to crumble and fall to the ground.

Together, we are one with everything on this Earth.
We hail to no one but ourselves,
And we respect ourselves and the land around us just like any flower would.

But what the average onlooker doesn’t know,
Is that we are no ordinary flower.

The snow falls
On my naked body,
White covering
My open wounds.

The light leaving my eyes,
This is a blessed demise.
My blood running cold,
I no longer feel old.

My skin,
Pale with cold.
My hands,
Numb and old.

My wrinkles
Fade to nothing
As I begin my descent
Into mourning.

I suddenly feel saddened
That it must end so soon—

But then I remember
I am not the youthful girl I used to be
That December.

My moment of recall begins to fall,
Like a fragile ember.
I do not feel like I did
That December.

I was able to accomplish so much
Yet—
So little
In my wide-span life.

So much—
Because I met my first love,
Had my first kiss,
And was someone to miss.

But so little—
Because everyone can do those things.

No, so much—
Because all those little things
Make great things for me.

I realize that life is a fragile hourglass.
Some clumps in the sand might slow it down,
But the result is still the same.
I solemnly find out
That this is the end of my game.

And after all this time—
After all these years—

I remember.

The best thing,
The most beautiful thing,


Was that one day.
That one day,
When I fell in love with you.

The moment in my life most worthy to remember—


Was that day,



That December.

It’s hard
Knowing you shared your soul with someone else.
Knowing you offered everything to someone else.

It’s hard
Knowing you looked at her the way you look at me
It’s hard
Knowing you desired her the way I hope you desire me.

It’s hard
Knowing you loved her as much as you love me.
It’s hard
Knowing you looked at pictures of her
And felt the way you do
When you look at pictures of me.


It’s hard
Knowing you appreciated someone
Like you appreciate me.