Among the sympathetic whispers of loss,

There exists the simple implication

Woven in-between the hopelessness and longing,

That what is lost

Can always be found.

As the tongue of her long-lost puppy caresses her face,

Echoes of agony in the young girl’s voice

Bursts into loud shouts of relieved joy.

But most of the time-

The murmurs of true loss are resolved in certainty

An assertion that states that it is not lost

But rather, gone.

For no matter where you look,

Or how far you journey,

And the million times you pray,

What is lost

Can never be found,


What is gone

Can never be replaced.

As the last breath of her puppy escapes into infinity,

The little girl’s repeating cries can never bring back

The life in a loving friend she has had so long.


Memories of the loss has always existed

In places where no one bothers to look,

For losing someone is always painful

And remembering them hurts even more.



Is the key to rebirth

Because only when the wound is reopened

Can you ever be truly healed.

In many cases-

Having memories

Is the heart of losing something.

Definition of loss:

Losing something

Doesn’t really mean it’s gone

At least,

Not inside,

Where you can remember.