Father Daze
Another day, another replay
of your death;
punch one-thousand-
four hundred-sixty has landed
and I don't feel a thing.
I know that I love you,
but half of my heart no
longer bleeds because the
need is gone;
upon departure,
you took the dawn.
Lights out.
I shout internally,
four years is an eternity;
this storm is the norm and
I see no end nor a rainbow bend
above me.
You said you loved me
at the end of each call,
now I don't recollect
the last time I heard you tell me;
punch a thousand-
four hundred-sixty-one.
And by the way, June hates me
because every year, I forget its third
Sunday and demand it repeals
the seventh day, but it arrives
anyway like an unwanted guest,
or death itself.
So, I stumble each 24 hours
with power only to lie in
the darkness of my bed where the
new summer sun
can't find or comfort me;
and I refrain from burdening those
children and their families
celebrating fathers while
I mourn mine
and wonder how long before
my flesh falls from me that
our spirits embrace
and meet again,
never to depart...
this time.
© Copyright Venus Se7en
