The door flew open
but it was just the wind
i am still waiting
for you
to come home
does it even make
sense? you made
your departure
an art
you'd pick out
your hairs
when we werent around
we'd come home
your head bare
pushing everyone away
because
a sickness told you to
you'd handle every
punch, every cursed word he threw
at you
barely walking
but still surviving
i am your proof
that you created something in the last years
of your living
i shut them out
my own father
when he's gone
where will my proof
of ever being created
go? i'll plaster your
words
on my ribcage
to show, you were the
only one i will
not push away
because though, the cancer
told you to
you always did the same
held me close
with your weak arms
but still had
    a grip
if i could choose
i'd beg the god
to make me
the one to be sick
so bury me close to you
when i am gone
i'll play with all your hair
even though it was gone when you left
i know it has to be there
your red lipstick stains
are on my pillow
but only in my dreams
even though they say you're gone
things arent always as they seem