Perhaps that is why
I have something called dry eye
All the tears were shed

is this
what it feels like
to be a fossil
in the making?
to have pebbles,
sand and grit
swept slowly
on top of me.
not to mention
the crushing
and deafening
of miles of water
pressing it all down
to bury me.

but sometimes
sometimes there's
relief and light
when someone
digs through the
weight to reveal
the shadow of the
creature that once
lay there.
but then that husk
is reduced to
cinders in a mountain
of others.
and i guess you could say
that 'power station'
is adulthood.
or life.

missing you is like
resisting the urge to shave my head

no one salts my wounds like you
lemonjuice pouring from your eyes
your tongue dripping with expired syrup meant to fill me with ash and guilt

apologies bleed from the aching cuts you made
but you add another skeleton to the closet
and steal away the trusting stars in my eyes
blaming them too

i wish i could look at the sky, but all i see is smoke
from all my fires
you tried to put out with gasoline

they were your drug
and you overdosed

Your bird-spine curves to the roof of my mouth, confetti-skull sticks to the back of my teeth. Your wet heart beats on my tongue, small lungs press in for sleep.

In silence, I carry you. In words, I carry you. I hear you breathe. Feel your dreams furl and unfurl, fern-like to term - and I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

In pieces, I carry you. In love, I carry you. I feel shame. Not for letting you go - for letting it in. I know what happens to children like you, with fathers like him.