Beautiful Bittersweet Life Poems

Exploring the world of life and grief through poetry.

Category: Missing Mom

  • Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick

    Memories of Mom’s Red Lipstick

    When I look in the mirror, and uncap the lipstick,
    carefully applying the bright red to my lips,
    I picture my mother looking back at me.
    She was not one to fuss with makeup,
    but always applied her lipstick with care.
    Even as she faded with age, her lips blazed.
    And I, who always wore muted colored gloss if anything,
    now boldly wear true red in honor of my mother,
    shining my light for the world to see.

  • She Lives in Me

    She Lives in Me

    For Mom

    I breathe in your essence,
    what you’ve infused into my soul.
    I miss your embrace and the sound of your voice.
    And yet, I feel you walking beside me.
    It’s the light in my eyes when I
    lead with curiosity, whether it’s meeting new people
    or trying new experiences.
    Your childlike wonder showed me
    how to explore the world.
    The willingness to make mistakes and fall,
    knowing that I would rise again.
    You taught me to laugh at myself,
    to laugh with others, but not at them.
    I miss when you’d say,
    “I’m so proud of you.
    You reinvented yourself.
    You could have just given up,
    but you kept going.”
    Those words were uplifting,
    reminding me that I found a way to live
    in the face of grief and trials.
    I never minded
    as your memory faded
    to hear those precious words on repeat
    until they disappeared as well.
    The gift of encouragement,
    especially on days
    that are overwhelming and exhausting,
    still resound in my head.
    It is also a reminder to pay it forward,
    telling those I love how proud I am of them,
    hoping to spread your warmth
    that you left in my keeping.

  • Dreaming of Mom

    Dreaming of Mom

    In the night you visit my dreams
    Sitting next to your gravestone,
    Alert and at peace.
    You gather me into your arms,
    Just like when I was a child,
    Holding me gently, comforting me,
    Telling me I’ll be okay.
    The tears slip down my cheeks
    As I rest my head against your bosom,
    Feeling safe and shattered at the same time.
    The ether of the dream evaporates,
    Leaving me alone in my bed,
    My face wet, wanting to hold onto you
    And longing for the respite of sleep
    To ease my grief again.