For The Record — Summary

gwritespoetrySad

For the record, I didn't stop crying over your loss, I ran out of tears, I'm as dry as a drought in the Sahara dessert, Because I will never get over the fact that you are gone, Like debris from an earthquake, Like a glass half empty, Like a candle burning oxygen.

I didn't grieve and forget your absence, Because one doesn't forget a great love, They are trapped and strangled by it, Until the noose is finally cut, And you are free to go, Like a bird forced from it's nest, Like a balloon lost from the grip of the needy child, Like the smoke from the candle burning oxygen.

For the record, One doesn't forget, Period, I'm not set free by my newly cut noose, But I drown from it, I have lived my life on a tether so I forgot how to stand on my own, Like a baby learning to walk, Like a tree falling in the forest, Like the drying wax from the candle burning oxygen.

Period.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

Download on the App StoreGet it on Google Play
More about the app

or

Continue on the website

The speaker is correcting a misunderstanding. Someone seems to think the crying stopped because the pain did, but the speaker insists it only stopped because the tears ran out. The grief is still there, dry and permanent, and the repeated "for the record" and blunt "Period" give the voice a firm, almost defensive edge.

The poem argues that loving someone deeply is a kind of trap. The loss is described as a noose that has finally been cut, but being freed doesn't feel like relief. The speaker has lived on a "tether" for so long that standing alone feels like learning to walk again, and the freedom becomes something they drown in. Each stanza ends with a string of similes, and the recurring image of the candle burning oxygen, then smoke, then drying wax, suggests something slowly being used up. The mood is bleak and stubborn, with exhaustion sitting underneath the insistence.

Read also

Poem analysisA close reading of its images and form

More by gwritespoetry

All poems
Dreamygwritespoetry

Hope

All I can do is hope for the prince to break my fall, Or hope that the monsters won't read my ideas, There was a time when I could be safe in my own mind, And nobody was hurt by my thoughts,
Contemplativegwritespoetry

Metaphors

The empty house is a metaphor, Of a family gone away, Where they went? Who knows, But they are gone to stay.
Cheerfulgwritespoetry

Twilight

The sun and moon are never in the same place at the same time. But they chase each other around the world. Through the stars they duck and hide. They go down the milky way as if it's a slide.

Similar mood

Similar topic