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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1889797
Written when I was missing my nephew who passed away at a young age two years ago.
Gone

You are gone,
And we are here.
We live, we breath, we talk
We speak,
But not of you.

Not aloud.

You are a memory,
Precious and sacred,
Painful and scary.
You are an image now
Of what is lost.

But still not gone.

We speak of you
In the dark
Alone at night.
We wonder where you’ve gone.
Is it really better there?

Are you happier there?

You are a memory
We fear to forget,
And want to forget.
A dream that will
Never go away.
© Copyright 2012 Christina (chrissy318 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1889797-Gone