My Father

The backs of my eyelids

Deftly remind me of

That same time, same place, same feelings

Of when my tears meant something, came

From a place of 

Honest Disbelief, Gut-Tearing Sadness.

 

A whole year later,

365 days, all of those minutes, to the single one,

On. The. Dot.

And I still am not whole. 

 

Crocodile drops of salt from the present

Mimic minimalist tattoos

Of those large, painful tears 

That stabbed into my heart,

Like the pulsating slab of raw meat it is.

 

Seared into my brain,

My secret cold, gray holding cell,

The day I talked about you the worst way possible

The day I comforted your girlfriend

The day I couldn’t believe things like this happen in real life.

 

The day I became adult.

Was also the day 

I was rushed from work to the E.R. 

To find you

Having your limp chest

Pumped, horrifically terrifying,

And the blue of your skin

Giving it away

They had to stop

And you were dead.

 

The gray hairs told of the stress

You underwent, and I would undergo.

They foresaw the future and told me,

To get myself together for them

But they could not be there for me.

 

I didn’t listen and stupid teenage angst enshrouded me.

Such harsh words,

So little time,

How dare I continue to cry. 

The floods of sadness have drenched the rest 

Of my life.

 

My personal tsunami of combustible feelings

Extinguish the memories and

They fade. The grief continues.

I wallow and allow myself to fade

Into menacing, embracing bad habits.

 

Eye to eye with a father-shaped corpse

Of my actions

Leaving a father-shaped hole

In my heart, my life, my everything. 

I have nothing.