Home » Poems » Emma Atkins » I Hate the Sunset

I Hate the Sunset

I hate the sunset tonight, it looks so familiar. It reminds me so much of you. I hate the way the colors blend together, because it reminds me of that night we spent just you and I allowing ourselves to collide and this sunset won't let me forget any of it. How warm your skin was. How pink your lips were, or how soft your hair was. I hate the sunset, yet I can't bear to look away. As much as it hurts it reminds me that it was real, you ... that you were real. And you slipped away from me just as quickly as the sun slips away from the Earth.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Paul Olivier

Date: 2/14/2025 5:04:00 PM

Kinda brutal how life unfurls. I feel from this though. Thanks and worth a recognition.

Darlene De Beaulieu

Date: 2/14/2025 4:31:00 PM

Hello Emma Atkins, You are hurt because she hurt you. She ruined the relationship do not blame .Enjoy your weekend my frkiend. /Darlene/

Beata Agustin

Date: 2/4/2025 10:01:00 PM

Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.

Lena Smith Carter

Date: 2/3/2025 2:48:00 PM

Thanks, Emma, for your comments on my "Cherry Pie!" I enjoyed your poem above. What a perfect analogy of someone "who slipped away from you" as the "sun slips away from the earth!" We all hate to be reminded of loss and know that something as beautiful as a sunset can be a painful reminder.

Unseeking Seeker

Date: 2/1/2025 9:47:00 PM

Beautiful poem. It is deep, loving, sorrowful. If sunset rekindles memory of fond moments of tenderness, why hate the sunset though? It is but a template upon which those moments in time flowed, enriching the soul.