Dear Lost Friend

Dear Heart-beat,

I find that with every being of fiber in my body, I constantly miss you. Your presence warming the frighteningly cold crevasses of my heart. I’ve never initially spoken to you or told you earnestly how I feel, since what seems an entirety. But how could I when you’re so far away. I long to hold your hand once more, hear the lightness in your heavy voice. There was always a way that you made everything feel so easy, no matter how much baggage you’d actually hide. I’ve never told you how much I adored you, not in the depths that I long to now. I was too young. My mind was ever expanding but it never constituted the thought of losing you, yet now you’re gone and nothing has been the same since. The family, they don’t love. Not in the initial depth you used to root down into our bones. There are many cracks, seeping so far they cannot be repaired and you are no longer here to hold them together. They argue, a lot. They argue and everything is heavy. The air in which they carry themselves, the words that go unspoken are suffocating. Tightening the grip around each neck, and one day I firmly believe they may all loose breath. We just aren’t in sync anymore.

My mindset has varied. At first, I would believe that there was nothing I could not be and somehow all of my dreams were within cosmic relief. I believed vividly and wholeheartedly because that is what you had taught me. Now I harbor these dreams in a ceramic jar that I only open at night. Only on those nights in which I need my dreams to feed the flower withering away inside me. Withering away with the hope of a tomorrow better than today. I wish I still had your ever constant sunshine, radiating throughout my body. A photosynthesis that science tries to define but slowly realizes they never can. A heat so warm I would make myself chilly just so I could bathe in its glory once more. It’s empty now. And I find myself in constant activity in order to never feel that cold, as not to remind me of a heat that no longer prevails.

These days are ever longer and I’ve grown so much older. You’d be so proud of your little pea, yet. And though it is unnerving and your absence keeps me hurting, I’ll be your shooting star like you’d said. I’ll try best not to grow weary and harness your homey feeling, till I see you once more at the end. When the days are unbearing and I want to stop feeling, I’ll remember you said I can’t. But it goes without saying in every song that I’m singing, I miss you, my dear Great Aunt.


Your Snupe


This poem is about: 
My family
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