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aveneficus · 01-04-2009, 06:23 PM

This is a poem I wrote during english class. The prompt was relating a peppermint to the five senses, and I went an entire different direction with it due to having been preoccupied with a friend's recent suicide.

12.15.08
The pain of loss exceeds the sweetest of simplicities,
Death too soon overshadows these striped candies.
This peppermint brings out memories:
The Sight of a little girl, smiling, running, candy in hand.
The Sound of my father's jaw snapping at the dinner table.
Yet again the mind will return to darkness.
Oh, the Taste of sweet sorrow, the Aroma of regret.
Realizations that came days, months, years too late.
A life has been taken
"Hold on, if you feel like letting go."
By the absence of a mother,
"Hold on,"
The apathy of a father,
"It gets better than you know."
And the carelessness of humanity.
Here i sit in this desk, crinkling an empty wrapper.
Somewhere, there is an empty desk, an empty bed.
And empty hearts that lay awake,
Writing personal letters of regret, never to be sent.
And with that fifth sense, we Feel nothing.

Let me know what you think.

01-04-2009, 06:23 PM	#1 (permalink)
aveneficus Groupie Join Date: Nov 2008 Location: Cincinnati, OH Posts: 44	Senses and Suicide Poem This is a poem I wrote during english class. The prompt was relating a peppermint to the five senses, and I went an entire different direction with it due to having been preoccupied with a friend's recent suicide. 12.15.08 The pain of loss exceeds the sweetest of simplicities, Death too soon overshadows these striped candies. This peppermint brings out memories: The Sight of a little girl, smiling, running, candy in hand. The Sound of my father's jaw snapping at the dinner table. Yet again the mind will return to darkness. Oh, the Taste of sweet sorrow, the Aroma of regret. Realizations that came days, months, years too late. A life has been taken "Hold on, if you feel like letting go." By the absence of a mother, "Hold on," The apathy of a father, "It gets better than you know." And the carelessness of humanity. Here i sit in this desk, crinkling an empty wrapper. Somewhere, there is an empty desk, an empty bed. And empty hearts that lay awake, Writing personal letters of regret, never to be sent. And with that fifth sense, we Feel nothing. Let me know what you think.