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.