You called for me
after I uttered your name
in a passing conversation,
but it’s too late now, father
You see,
I’ve already drank
your poison,
I savored it to the last drop
It’s in my bloodstream,
it’s in my hollow stomach,
it’s pouring over
everything that I am today
My soul is mine,
you can’t touch it,
it’s achingly burning from a
fire I can’t extinguish alone
Your name is laced
with mine, I’m sorry
I couldn’t forget you
But please let me
keep my soul,
It’s mine,
but can I keep it?
It burns me,
let me keep it anyway
I had a dream about him again recently, and remembered this old poem I wrote about him.
