me&my

soundofmind

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Sun Mar 22, 2026 1:49 pm

soundofmind says... · Sun Mar 22, 2026 1:49 pm

me & my

all of life is bitter/sweet
somehow these two ends meet in grief
one grain of salt, one drop of salve
a sorrow shared is sorrow halved

the joy and sadness coincide
but happiness is multiplied
to love, to hurt, to love, to miss
the bricks of life are laid with this

it took me years to understand
i cannot shy from open hands
my spirit was designed to give
i lose myself, and here i live

Past Years
2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021 | 2022 | 2024 | 2025

Last edited by soundofmind on Sun Mar 22, 2026 2:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sun Mar 22, 2026 2:15 pm

soundofmind says... · Sun Mar 22, 2026 2:15 pm

i.

everyone who’s loved has stared into the funhouse mirror asking what they’re willing to lose. but the power of hindsight and warped perceptions is that you never get to choose — you only get what’s in front of you, and you don’t know what it is ’til it’s gone. see it wrong.
God knows i would give anything to see you again. but if you were here, i wouldn’t have a shattered diadem; reflections of memories, me, him, her, and him. i’m left to decipher what’s real and what’s true, but the feelings go deeper than pictures of you.
warmth in the heart, not the hands or the skin, when you found the lock and pulled out the lynchpin. two days 'fore you died, i felt safe at your side. you loved me, believed it, and somehow i knew. now i grieve all the dreams that that happiness grew
i know you felt guilty. the things that i said — as a teenager — still spinning round in your head. never made up lost time, but the moment is now. is loving you with all my heart still allowed? if i was too late, i knew it too soon
i’ll never forget the last day i saw you

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sun Mar 22, 2026 2:36 pm

soundofmind says... · Sun Mar 22, 2026 2:36 pm

ii.

they said you died choking on your own blood — it was seconds
one deep breath from the earth to the heavens
no dignity in last words
she says you were stubborn, short-sighted — and scared
for two months we found how one man unprepared
leaves a mountain of myrrh
maybe you were the capstone, one man — couldn’t break
but you are not here to defend your mistake
with your last words
my bargaining chip is to blame — but saying “i called it” to the name in my locket stings
there’s no solace in knowing what hindsight brings
nobody feels heard
“what’s happening” is was what i would’ve asked too — when it beckoned
my heart stopped at 10am for forty three seconds
no one there but her
what pained me the most was the transpired time — a plane, nationwide
flyover states, but for me, you would drive
for your forgotten third

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sun Mar 22, 2026 10:39 pm

soundofmind says... · Sun Mar 22, 2026 10:39 pm

iii.

eight months since i lost you, and i have a whole album hidden in your pockets and your sleeves. your jacket fits me round the shoulders, but is fraying at the seams. you wore it since my childhood, as your favorite go-to piece, and now it's all that i can do to not make it part of me. i sing about your absence, every time i go to sleep. i replay a new regret again, reliving every week. exhausted, with a fever, when my brother called to say that "coding" was a word the doctors use to play out final moments in a dying hospital, inevitably grim. he choked on blood inside his lungs when they tried to save him. none of his kids made it, two hours from his place. just seconds passed before he passed, but i crossed seven states. if i had waited longer. if just another day. i could've said goodbye or cried alongside in good faith. nothing wounds you like the distance, leaves you hopeless and afraid, than knowing you cannot make it and there's nothing you could change. i don't blame myself for leaving, only wish i could've stayed -- and cared a little less about myself so i could say one last "i love you," all before i drove away. i still hold the gift of God that we had talked and hugged and prayed. and in those final moments when i last looked in your face, you hugged me tight and said you're proud -- and now I know the weight of how much speaking your love matters, with that courage, i will wait. and with every drop of love left in me sing the pain away. all the love. all of my blood, my father. filled with gratitude. i thank the Lord for what i had. the gift I got was you.

and still i sing of all the things i lost in missing you

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Mon Mar 23, 2026 4:05 am

soundofmind says... · Mon Mar 23, 2026 4:05 am

poetry readings

i. - ii. - iii.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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Wolfi

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Mon Mar 23, 2026 10:21 pm

Wolfi says... · Mon Mar 23, 2026 10:21 pm

Spoiler

I am in tears. wow wow wow.

<3 <3 <3 <3

John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled
and do not be afraid.

she/her | team monkeys | #unclassified

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soundofmind

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Wed Apr 01, 2026 11:36 am

soundofmind says... · Wed Apr 01, 2026 11:36 am

iv. cry-o-genetic,

this cryogenetic waste will kill me if i don’t freeze it
there’s no processing center to offload my grief in
how many more days do i have with my mother? i don’t know
will i count every day with my heart five below?
because sometimes it hurts too much to feel it
will i be the last one at the table to see it
and pick the last urn, there to pick up the pieces
is the temperature zero?
i can’t numb every loss with the face of a hero
i’m on fire when i’m weeping, and i’m doused if i don’t
every inch of my life has been frighteningly eloped
with an ice bin
wrap regrets in tin. hope one day i’ll win a ticket out of the desert
my father is melting, and so am i
he couldn’t take deep breaths too close to the sky
just like icarus, he fell on his back
and my hands are encased in his leftover wax
so i freeze it. at least it can stay
his broken wings will be my frozen keepsake

Last edited by soundofmind on Fri Apr 03, 2026 3:11 am, edited 1 time in total.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Thu Apr 02, 2026 5:46 am

soundofmind says... · Thu Apr 02, 2026 5:46 am

v.

among widows and widowers, i'm offered a benediction
a spiritual meeting, warmhearted conviction
"i hope you feel your father again," or his presence
some sign of the times or a note in the heavens
i'm not sure how to take it, however well-meaning
i don't think it'd mean much to me to be dreaming
and hear his voice again, as a memory
or see fragments of his face pieced together, evolving
the longer the runway, the further i get
it's in every man's nature to live and forget
though i cling to the pictures, soundbites, and recordings
no whispers suffice to replace you, in mourning

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Thu Apr 02, 2026 8:38 pm

soundofmind says... · Thu Apr 02, 2026 8:38 pm

vi.

people will never know what to say
and it’s strange how a social pariah is made in the wake of a loss
too afraid to touch what might shatter (though it’s broken already)
don’t say a word ‘cause they matter, but the silence is heavy
i feel everyone wrap me in miles of bedding, and we both create distance
you won’t bring it up, so neither will i
why won’t most of my friends look me straight in the eyes?
they say they’re afraid that they might make me cry
but why do they fear my tears?
i thought friendship would look different with so many years in our ledger
after all this time, sharing sorrows together, why can’t you share mine?
is it heavy? does stepping in require too much time? just to listen? and weep? just to hear when i speak of my father. his second daughter
or do you feel you must come prepared with something to say?
an offering of advice, before you run away
because it’s easier to drop a quick sorry than stay through the process
and i get it
the nature of life is that you will forget it in three months, or six, and as your life moves on i’ll be counting the moments where it all went wrong
still reliving that day
every time that i do just a little escape, it gets softer, as i do
but i miss everything
didn’t know this, or notice, that grieving would bring on a whole new season
where friends fade away
and other ones enter in, new, primed to stay through another
there’s no other version of me. no going back to who i used to be
who i am now is shattered, and healing, reborn. when someone you love dies
so does all you live for
you rebuild it. with effort, it always takes time. reassessing your values as they realign
but it’s painful, while watching, the image take shape
as more loved ones around you drop off, by mistake
and you drift new directions. some of them apart
the grief, multiplied, by the shift of the heart

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Fri Apr 03, 2026 2:46 am

soundofmind says... · Fri Apr 03, 2026 2:46 am

poetry readings

iv. - v. - vi.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sat Apr 04, 2026 12:08 pm

soundofmind says... · Sat Apr 04, 2026 12:08 pm

vii.

i am looking forward, in a mirror, looking back at me, and i’m in front of it. behind it. the rearview gets checked less and less. and my vanity becomes a muse, when i stop to pick at imperfections. i think i’m moving forward, through the glass. merging with my reflection, pushing in a new direction, crawling out of my room, and my car, and enclosures with shard-filled hands. the blood is still smearing on all i touch, and some days i wonder if i’m too much: not for you, but for me. too much for me to bear myself, my own aftercare, constant repair, every day. some days i see clearly through windows and windshields and others my vision kaleidoscopes, when we bond over dead fathers in a back room, and i listen. she apologizes for the imbalance, and i have no heart to tell her there’s no balance, and there never will be. blood is leaking out of me all the time, and i forget about it. it’s what happens when a car crash throws you into the street, into your childhood home, into the mirror your father stared in that you now clean, making sure its livable for your stepmother. i am me, and i am you, and i am the third person in the room, tired of saying "i," looking at my friends from severed distance, knowing its too exhausting to cleanse wounds all the time, when they never heal. it’s been a few months, and i think they get smaller, but i keep waiting for another vase to shatter, and another cup to break. i keep jumping into pyrex pans and sitting on high heat, on purpose or mistake. i broke a bowl that way, once, and i think i will again, if it helps me cry. because the cruel imbalance, dizzied in the rainy day, headlight reflections, is i can’t seem to feel it anymore. i saw red on everything, but now i’m color blind. i think somewhere a shard rolled past my eyes and went behind, striking a nerve, and now i’m numb to all the things i loved, despised — no, it’s just this one hurt, is inaccessible. but i know that’s a slippery slide. i’m worried i’ll be stretched forever, pulled taut between the two. i’m moving or i’m stagnant or i’m old or i am new and why can’t i just sit and feel it? how long does all this take? i’m sitting by the mirror again, but i keep turning away

Last edited by soundofmind on Sun Apr 05, 2026 3:42 am, edited 1 time in total.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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alliyah

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Sun Apr 05, 2026 2:08 am

alliyah says... · Sun Apr 05, 2026 2:08 am

Spoiler

sound - I am definitely stopping back again for some more specific comments, because there is SO much beautiful poetry and striking phrasing here (I feel like you can tell so strongly from your poetry how much of both a lyricist and a story-teller you are, because the musicality of your poems, but also the narrative sweep always comes through in each one - this also comes across very clearly in your poem readings) - but right now I just want to say I am so very sorry your loss. My heart is aching reading these. Sending you all the love, and peace, and praying for you too.

Will be stopping by again. <3

you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now

but i have promised to return

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soundofmind

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Sun Apr 05, 2026 3:51 am

soundofmind says... · Sun Apr 05, 2026 3:51 am

viii.

i know nothing after all.

it came to me slowly when my brother called. there’s a whole list of reasons why reality stalled because i don’t know the difference between dreaming and a plane ride. both are in the sky experienced with closed eyes, and i didn’t get to see you. i keep wishing i could hear you say you’re proud of me again, so i would feel sufficient. how could i put so much weight on your words now, but when you said them it was different? and does that make me selfish, for wanting your approval? for wanting my father tell me i’m worth it. i’m brilliant. i’m everything you hoped i would be and you’re waiting to see who i become in ten years, in five. i hate how your absence steals all of that time with shared memories.

when you said it, it felt real.

or it did after you were gone. i wish your words could heal me but isn’t that wrong, to cling tightly? to give less than i take. i wish you said something, was it your mistake — being silent for so long? it wasn’t until i was older that you started peeling the guilt away, and i saw you, as if for the first time. a person, a father, a man who was mine for sixty four years, and i have half his face. the score wasn’t settled but how can i chase resolution when you’re not around me to set it? i wish in my crying that i could forget it. if you’d said something more. shared what was in your head. do you have any idea how surreal the words of the dead are — to read them? in the journal i found. i’m ashamed that i looked now that you’re not around. but i saw your rejoicing, your sorrow, your shame. it was only three times that you mentioned my name, in the document.

yes, i looked it up.

and each time you grieved all the times i gave up on you, and yet, you never gave up on me. God, is this what grieving is supposed to be? i will miss you forever, ’til i see you again. and i hope on the other side of eternity, we can be friends. but until then, i’m sorry. i know you can’t hear: but i wish i’d been softer. i wish you were here.

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sun Apr 05, 2026 4:12 am

soundofmind says... · Sun Apr 05, 2026 4:12 am

ix.

my counselor won’t say it explicitly: but there’s a measure of suffering you can elicit with your own lingering. returning to your vomit like a safe offering, licking wounds, licking pain, licking sorrow away ’til it lingers on your tongue. i know i fall into it when i scroll back in time, find the time that you called me: one voicemail, to date. you never were one for much talking — too late to change that now. all that you had said was my name, in the way that you did with affection and play. it was awkward, endearing, and purely your own. i used to think stiffness was better condoned in a workplace than family, and maybe it is, but your warmth never came through your voice or a kiss. even hugs were a stalemate, between rest and rhyme. you offered them like a wood plank half the time, and you said short platitudes. i thought you weren’t original, but the origin was you. i know it was enough, now. but i wish i knew then. when i read your own writing, i saw somehow your pen was ten times more expressive than your voice or your face. i’m still reconciling the ways you replaced all your passion in family with duty and drive. because when you saw friends i saw you come alive — and i wondered, so often, why so many times you shut down in our home — and whenever i tried to crawl past it: the shelter, the fortress, the wall. i felt like you built it another foot tall. what did you think a father was supposed to be? it’s a question i won’t have an answer to bring — though i hope that, in heaven, you finally know. you sit with the Father, and that is my hope, and the only one i have. in all this grief brings. i pivot my eyes to the light; lingering, on the sliver, the crack, and the glimpse that i see. sometimes peace is implicit, through surrendering

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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soundofmind

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Sun Apr 05, 2026 4:25 am

soundofmind says... · Sun Apr 05, 2026 4:25 am

poetry readings

vii. - viii. - ix.

Spoiler

@Wolfi <3 <3 <3
@alliyah Thank you so much. I'm glad that my narrative and lyrical strengths bleed over. It's nice that other people see it (as it's rather inevitable, at this point, stylistically) <3 Prayers deeply appreciated. Much love

Pants are an illusion. And so is death.

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