Wave tears goodbye to be cried at night;
Wave hands to hold nothing,
The pain now or never for the grieving of our love.
Your loud whisper cannot reach my ears,
Kiss goodbye, as lips sweat teardrops from my eyes.
Why can’t it be? Why not us?
I ask a little more while
Stepping ahead to be out of sight,
Left alone…
Left unspoken…
You and I…
In separate ways,
Two paths diverging in the fading light,
Once intertwined, now drifting apart,
Each heartbeat echoing the silence of the night.
Memories linger like shadows in the dark,
Fleeting moments that once ignited a spark.
But time has a way of unraveling dreams,
And love, once vibrant, now silently screams.
I gather the pieces, the remnants of us,
Holding them close, though they gather dust.
In the quiet of solitude, I learn to let go,
To wave tears goodbye, to embrace the unknown.
Though the ache may linger, the heart may still yearn,
I’ll find strength in the lessons, in the love that we learned.
For in every ending, there’s a chance to begin,
To wave hands to the past, and let healing in.
So here’s to the journey, to the paths we must take,
To the love that we cherished, and the hearts that will break.
With each step forward, I’ll carry your name,
In the tapestry of life, nothing’s ever the same.
I write a poem that makes the world see, a woven thread wherein hearts can be free. I write a poem that older folks feel, echoes of wisdom, truth that is real. I write a poem that the youngsters think, a spark of imagination, a vibrant ink. I write a poem that made the world known, in verses and stanzas, our stories are sown. I write a poem that makes the world blue, a reflection of sorrow, a true glance. I write a poem that makes the older folks cry, for memories cherished and moments gone by. I write a poem that makes youngsters mourn, for dreams that have faded and hopes that are torn. I write a poem to make the world healed, with love as the balm and compassion revealed. I write a poem to make the world smile, a gentle reminder to pause for a while. I write a poem to make the older hope, a bridge to the future, a way to cope. I write a poem to mak...