To my dearest father,
I love you.

Between that untouched stack of papers,
this bouquet of flowers.
The soft mumbles of words,
and a squeeze of your hand.
Your endearing embrace of another.
There is your love.

This warmth of one's heart,
the catalyst of love,
misunderstanding sinks,
with well-mannered intentions.
Thoughts forming into nothingness,
my mere words.

Well, comfort has a taste.
It waits, like a steaming bowl of soup,
filled to the brim with love.

It's a hug so tight it swallows oneself,
mixed with untucked collars,
mismatched socks,
and the rushing to be untangled and free,
this struggle to stay awake.
Alive.

Your hand is cold,
my heart, warm and fuzzy on the inside.
Quiet exchanges,
hearty laughs,
and clickings of a pen.

A bed, a home, empty.
Patiently waiting,
lingering for an everlasting later.

Beeps of the unknown echo,
and I sit quietly,
just the two of us.
But I am lonely,
With only but the sea and the sky for company.

This sliver of hope engulfs the room,
and wraps around like a coat,
a few sizes too big, always.

The weight of a human soul,
this intangible kindness of his beating heart,
with a world of love to offer.
A good man.
That, I say,
was my father.

A breathless life, left there lying.
Filled with chatterings of the lost,
one you will never meet again,
forever intertwining the silence,
slipping into a cacophony of noise.

A hesitation, slowly dying.
But what not is a sweet nothing,
without this message spoken from my heart?
Surrounded by consoling words,
uneasy goodbyes.
I had promised you, and only you,
an unspoken story, this lie.

A sky above, soundlessly crying.
These missed memories you will never make,
and the loneliness of solitude,
a longing for a friendship,
simply for your love once more.

It's quiet.
I shiver.
Awaiting, hoping.
The living dead don't toil for long,
and there are warmer places than in your arms.

Drowning, dying in a memory,
one that isn't quite mine,
but isn't quite his either.
There wasn't a day you weren't by my side,
but time awaits none.

The string of fate tied us together,
one soulful dream.
Happiness had known nothing, until it met you.
That is, until you fell.
Fell to the skies you did,
off this lonesome earth,
away from me.
All hushed, quiet, unmoving.

Still, your heart beats.

Someone's on the other side, a shadow.
Watching, waiting, wanting to be let in.
A mirror, a reflection, holding back myself, keeping the unlocked door close.

And then.
A knock.
The unlocked door, left slightly ajar.
I slowly peek my head inside.
This darkness, my fear.
It's you.

The shadow, this man, it smiles.
He sits, he stays,
he whispers, to me.
Now, and forever more,  
I am lost,
scattered among the stars.
Roaming the sea above,
far, far away,
until the end of time.

Yet.
Whenever I seem to fade,
remember this, and never, ever, forget.
My eternal promise, my parting gift.
A comfort, these string of simple words,

I love you too.

A handful of coins, to pay the fee for the bus.

Quiet chats, with rough leather seats, a skin away from alive. Scenery, stretching out into the unknown, the window outside, painting a gateway to the acres of trees.

I smile, knowing these moments are between the two of us.
Just you and me.

With the sea and sky for company,
Guided, by a soulful dream
We are one.

I'm glad I left your room tidy.

When they come for your things,
I'll whisper your name,
why the room was too full,
too suffocating.

Too much, too little,
a glass half full,
its emptiness consumes me whole.
It tips over to the edge, barely in place.

You smile and smile and smile it seems so real, but the water is piping hot,
the smoke and ashes form pretty shades on my arms,
I can't help but choke.

An unquenchable thirst,
a lump in my throat that seems to burst out,
I cough, you wretch.

All for a flower.
I crush its leaves,
the petals in my eyes,
my vision clouds,
I stumble,
The plug is pulled.

The hotline is dead.
Sinking deeper, out of the ***,
and into the boiling sea.
The room is angry.
A raging fire,
spitting flames of contempt.

The pale, cold floor,
my eyes unfocused,
like your bed,
empty.

A dream of a future,
all gone.

The walls tear and chew themselves on the inside, the carpet shrivels up and sinks.
Red and roses were your favorite.

A pretty sight,
all the roses that bloomed across your chest,
the chill in your bones never seemed to leave.

Few of those flowers blossom.
Thick, long vines of red,
trickle down from my wrists and onto the floor,
spreading out into beautiful roses.

I'm glad I left your room tidy, my beloved.

Chores can finally rest easy tonight, and so can you.

The bleeding carcass of the rotting sun
Stretches upon,
under an insipid ocean.

Vast lands,
an eye only can see,
But never glance upon the silver of another moon.

Let me be lost, let me be found
Let me be cast aside, let me be treasured
One day, for the slightest of moments,
Grant me this blessing.

Let my weary bones rest, let my tired eyes close,
For a moment of peace,
Let me rest.

Once, I am lost into the abyss of darkness, a stillness I had never known,
I am free.

Please, kind sir,
Let me rest.
And dream.

Weakness
My bones feel weak
Round my eyes spin

Like the earth
Faster, faster I go
Spiral downwards, tipsy over the edge
It creeps out, inside it goes

Peeling and peeling the layers
Crimson, red and hot
This is not my skin

Thorns entangled
Even the loveliest of roses
Won't let go

Red paints this sky
A dull hue
Please, bleed into my eyes

Bruised, broken and buried,
I love you.