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 |    A book to house all my Poetic Explorations |
| I found the courage to traverse back our memory lane I found nothing great but these tidbits of pain, These broken pieces drenched in life's pelting rain These thoughts that will haunt me again and again. Time fleets in haste, now it has been a week Those passing days were unpleasant, turbid and bleak. But I won't let this sorrow burry me alive 'cause I still have reasons to live and survive. Now it's time for me to forgive and forget And cast away my fears and all my regrets I set you free from my heartstring bond I wish you the best, this day and beyond. Losing you means someone else is waiting, Moving on means something worth accepting. Forgiving you means a life worth giving, Forgetting you means a life worth living. At first I thought that you are worth fighting for, That in every second without you seems losing my war. But I realize that your absence is something I must ignore Then slowly but surely, time will heal my wounded core. Letting Go in Lavender: A Revised "I Set You Free" Through memory's misty lanes, I dared to tread, But found no solace, only echoes of dread. Shards of sorrow, rain-swept and forlorn, Haunt me still, with whispers of a love once born. Days bled into weeks, a murky flood, Grief's heavy tide threatening to engulf my blood. But drowning deep, a spark flickered and flared, The will to live, a fire to be declared. Forgiveness blooms, a lavender embrace, Washing away regret's bitter trace. Unshackled strings, your image set adrift, My heart, though tender, with healing gifts. Loss holds a promise, a whisper in the breeze, Someone awaits, beneath familiar trees. Moving on, a dance under skies unknown, A tender ache, a chance to claim my own. You were a fortress, once I thought to hold, Each missed encounter a story untold. Yet freedom lies in the space you leave behind, A wounded core, slowly, surely, finding light. So farewell, beloved, to ghosts I release, May your path bloom, with gentle inner peace. I turn the page, with lavender ink I write, My own redemption, bathed in morning light. |
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