I stood in the closed space
trembling all over, cracked
eyelids slowly falling in
deadened existences, somber
cheeks sinking in the air, as
I stared at the shadowed walls,
the Spiderman comforter
covering the stained bed,
a square of Lego blocks,
blue polished tricycle,
game consoles, a spinning
yo-yo that my baby boy
used to hold onto like
he'd discovered his new
best friend.  I remember
the days when we used
to watch Recess together,
?his bright blue eyes staring
excitedly at the screen,
picture perfect animation
elevating into heightened
equations, ecstatic smiles
and sparkly cheeks.  He was
my world, the one that kept
me working hard every day
to make sure he never went
hungry, a shining star in
my dreams that made being
a father the greatest joy.
And some days when I was
in the kitchen fixing his
favorite dish, fried chicken
and crinkled French fries,
I could hear the satisfying
delight in his face.  His
exuberant words,
This tastes amazing dad,
as I smiled at him and
thought how lucky I was
to be a part of his life.
And when it came time
to put him to bed, I'd
read, "Life and Dreams,"
his chipper frame smiling
in the moment, seeping
inside the lovely diction.
And as he drifted off to
sleep, I could see his
lips moving at a slow
pace, I love you, dad.
I'd kiss him on his
cheeks and reply,
I love you too
my little man.
Now as I stand here
gazing at everything
surrounding me,
how my life is
screaming inside
and out, harboring
in brokenness, I can
feel the suffocating
breaths in the distance
creeping around me,
a sunken flame
disintegrating into
greyed ashes.