I'm still afraid
       I can remember every detail
Of how my childhood derailed.
      I remember the last moments
He was in the hospital bed
      I could remember mum being there
As he lost more than just his hair
      I could remember his cousin
Rapidly pressing the emergency button
      I could remember the nurses yells
He was too sickly to hold a smile
      But I could remember his eyes
As they start to turn white
      And the shine start to taper off.
Mum in tears held my hand
      As he breathes his final breath.

I don't tell people
      Simply because it isn't a fun story
But I remember every detail
      And I tell people I've forgotten.

Another time I remember seeing him
      Hunched over the sink combing his hair
His once filled thick hair head
       Reduced to tiny fuzz of what it was.

I don't tell people these stories
        I tell them of my fun life
I tell them everything good
        I make jokes constantly
And I tell myself I've forgotten.
        Forgotten every detail...

People tell me I should refer to him
        As dad.
But sadly I have no real fond memories.
        And even with a full retention memory
I have no memories
         Of any quality father son moments.

I need to find new ways to express
the same way I've felt year after year.
Unique combinations of perfect poetry
that somehow convey exactly what I go through on a day to day basis.

This is me once again trying to shoot that target,
even if I never get the chance to yell bullseye.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I miss the sparks we had in every moment together, the ones that ignited our love to burn ferociously blue, not a gentle red.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

That was great but I think I missed, I'll give it another try.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is no remedy to prescribe for this disease of a life you left me lost in. All I can hope for now is that these words navigate their way onto your screen.

I design maps in every poem I jot down, with the illusion that someday you WILL find the path back to us.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

No... that one was accurate, but I'll try to be more precise.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I falsify myself anytime someone looks at me by wearing a mask that I'm not sure I can ever take off.

I don't have the courage to do that, because there's not a right way to explain how such permenant blemishes didn't start off as birthmarks.  They don't even look like scars, but rather lesions where you chose to purposely poison every inch of my being.   

My only method of eradicating you from my body was to turn my emotional pen and ink into something that I'm not embarrased to show the world.

My tattoos are etched so that I can finally decide what I look like on the outside, the person I saw myself becoming before I met you. Although, even these painful shades I continue forcing myself to endure won't hide the knowledge I am left blinded by.
 
We both know the real ones were engraved a long time ago in spaces so buried, so bottomless that not even the busiest gravedigger could stumble upon them.

- - - - - - - - - -

That felt like a closer hit.

Next time I decide to load my handgun I'll make sure to take a deep breath and focus, maybe then can I actually shoot the center of these criminal emotions that ****** me time and time again.

woke up today,
Thanking God that I'm alive today.
Thanking god he's okay today.
Thanking God that were alright today.
I woke up today,
Feeling blessed to see his face,
Hear his voice,
Hold his hands,
Kiss his lips,
Because he's still mine today.