Memory Keeper

August 15, 2009
By LizzB. BRONZE, Arma, Kansas
LizzB. BRONZE, Arma, Kansas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

I swear that’s all I hear.

All around me, that’s it.

When people try to talk to me I just smile to drive them away.

But it’s not a true smile.

It’s a painted on smile.

It’s painted on to hide my true feelings.

Feelings of hurt.

Feelings of lost hopelessness.

Feelings of what I know I want but what I know I can have.

I want you.

I can have that person that follows me around like a lost puppy dog.

But he’s not you.

He’s not who I love.

He’s just a person.

You are me.

You are that person that some people never find in their entire lives.

But I have found you.

I never really looked, you just came.

And you stayed.

You found my heart and that’s where you live.

There and in my memory.

How stupid it is that I lost you.

A stupid person doing a stupid act.

Taking you forever away from me.

I sit by your stone day after day.

Tears tracing the characters of your birthday and your death day.

My fingernails claw at your name in the marble until they bleed.

My Blood mixes with my tears.

Just like that day that you went out of this world for as long as it will go on.

Blood and tears.

Blood and glass.

Metal and glass.

Smoke and tears.

Screams of people trapped.

My own screams of being trapped.

Trapped in the vortex of you being gone.

I scream into my pillow at night, masking the noise from others.

Then I leave.

Guided by the full moon.

I run to you.

I run to our favorite place.

I hide behind trees and in the shadows from people looking for me.

When I find you, you aren’t there.

You will never been there again.

I run back.

I hide again from people that care.

They really don’t care.

They don’t hurt like I do.

They never loved you like I loved you.

Like I still love you.

Like I will always love you.

Even though you left in a explosion of fire and heat I still love you.

I will always love you.

The casket was closed.

I never saw your face.

Red roses for blood.

White roses for purity and love.

I was there when they sent you into the ground.

I was the last person to leave that day.

I was there to see your mother hysterical, because her only son was now six feet below her.

I was there for it all.

I was there for every minute.

And now I’m writing this to you.

I will read it always.

It will help me remember.

It will help me remember when all

I really want to do is forget.


The author's comments:
I wrote this poem as a profile of grief. At first I didn’t know what I was doing. I just sat down and started writing something but I wasn’t sure where it would go because I wasn’t all that sure of what I was writing. As I started getting deeper and deeper into the story I realized that I was writing not only a free verse poem but a lyric. I was telling how this girl lost the love of her life and she was so grief stricken she was almost hysteric. If you can see, she shows all the signs of being in mourning. She is melancholy, she is angry, she remembers, and she at last accepts. All the while bordering on hysteria. She’s writing about her experience. She’s writing it down because it’s like a movie, playing over and over in her mind and she needs to write it down in a hope that if she gets it down on paper it will in fact stop playing. To her desperation it doesn’t. That’s one theory to Her story.


The other theory is that she’s afraid. She’s afraid that He won’t know that she was there. Almost like she’s telling herself that it wasn’t a bad dream; telling herself that he won’t be there when she wakes up, sitting there in his pajamas, a cup of coffee and a smile waiting for her.



I hope that you understood everything that you have just read. I hope you will take Her, as I affectionately named her, story as a desperate attempt to come to terms with the tragedy that has just entered Her life. Her story was not one that I was expecting to tell.

Thank you for reading Her story.

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