September Sunset

For you, my mentor; my friend

An empty table;
A head full of memories.

A photograph;
A shadow of former glory.

A hole in the chest;
A bursting heart.

A limb amputated;
The wind under outstretched wings.

A helpless little girl,
And the elder brother, her confidant.

A handshake,
A legacy,
A promise,

And then you were gone.

July sunrise
And September sunset.

Saying goodbye was never easy;
Watching the sun rise again is even harder.


Let me be honest, even if it may sound embarrassingly clingy — I hate losing friends. Well, I’ve lost enough friends to realise that it’s to be expected as a natural process in life (and in this knowledge comes a certain fortitude, desensitisation, and comfort), but there will always be the special ones whose loss will be too much for me to bear with stoic nonchalance.

To acknowledge their absence is to feel that gaping hole that they’ve left behind — that enormous chest wound that is impossible to ignore. But life goes on, and this is how I come to confront my demons. As embarrassing and silly as my reaction may be, this is the best way I know to mourn and heal.


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