Gone But Not Forgotten | Teen Ink

Gone But Not Forgotten

May 7, 2010
By BrittyMS DIAMOND, Fort Wayne, Indiana
BrittyMS DIAMOND, Fort Wayne, Indiana
51 articles 9 photos 10 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Every time I make a plan, God laughs at me." - Jason Issacs

Under the tree was where she sat
Her secret place she loved to be at
A huge weeping willow by the river side
Made the perfect place for her to fun and hide
Whenever getting away was what she desired
Of going to her place she never tired

Facing the river, he sat and stared
Jealous of the water that flowed without care
This tree that covered him was his favorite spot
It’s base so round that he it could block
Never knowing that on the other side
Was a girl also went there to hide

One day as he returned to this place
Only to be greeted by her tear-streaked face
Their eyes met and something changed
For once, they had met someone who was the same
It was not the fairytale love at first sight
But they could not stay away, try as they might

Two years later they did find love
Under the tree with the night sky above
As cliché as it sounds, they could not disguise
The feelings they felt when they locked eyes
Within the year those two were married
Until death do them part, John has his Mary

As the years went by they fell more in love
Just to be separated by a shove
So entranced by the world she saw
She never did see the car at all
He pushed her away as soon as he saw it
She could not even speak when she saw he got hit

In the hospital he laid, never to wake up
She waited for months for him to come up
For months she waited, no matter what they said.
The pain and hurt eventually got to her head
She blamed herself for what happened that day
And that’s when it was decided she had to go away

They sent her to an institution
Thinking it was the best solution
But little did they know
That this only hurt her more so
All of the games they would play
With the cold instruments sitting on their tray

Depressing thoughts held no recognition
In this place the only comfort is discipline
The hurt stabs through like their impending knife
The silent shrieks mirror her life
She stayed down until the end of her strives
No one ever cared to know their lies

The people worry
They watch and wait for her story
Soon they hear the news of her terrible fate
It was known from the start and all you can do is wait
All of the pain to be dealt was well overdue
But now she gets to start anew

The day is beautiful but their mood is black
Old time memories are stuck on playback
As the time drags on only one remains
What happened that time, he never forgot her strains
He return back to their spot and for her he prayed
The strength of their bond was never decayed

As she left the world, another returned
Hearing the news that caused his world to burn
Next to his bed was her picture, faded with time
Well past its prime
He stares at it every day, willing his love to return home
But, still, he waits alone.

He loved her then and still does now
Her light is shining towards his shell
Soon they will be reunited
Going back to when their love ignited
His eyes keep closed, the beeping quickens
The shine of the light only thickens

Now he is back again at their place
Next to her, lying in space
Though transparent they are to the lives they left
Together, right there, is where they are at their best
Now and then a girl visits their beds
Laying down flowers for the dead

She dreams of what their stories were
Never knowing it was so close to her
She leans against the tree and sighs
“They loved once, and once again,
They fell in love with what could have been
Here they are once again: gone but not forgotten”

The author's comments:
I was sitting in class after a test staring at my notebook. I wanted to write something, but could not, so I started thinking about my grandpa. Four months and 20 days before I was born, he died. Whenever I am stuck in a writing block hole, I start thinking about him and sometimes it just starts to flow. When writing this, I was thinking about those old graves that are always in the way back of cemetaries. Whenever I read their grave markers, I always seem to wonder what their story was, and what their life was like. When I was younger, I used to make up stories for the people. That one was a fire fighter, the other was a single mom, and then the one after that a struggling cancer patient. When people read this, I would like for it to make them wonder what those faceless names were like. Who they were, what their life was like, and how they died. I want to make people think about what came before us, because without them, where would we be?

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