It's been three hundred and sixty five days,
Twelve hours,
And eight minutes,
And all I've been able to do is try
To wrap my head around the fact
That it's been that long since you've been
Gone.
For months my world was surrounded by
Pictures of you,
Videos of you,
People talking and talking
And talking
About how they felt about you.
I was always talked over.
The gust has died down
But I'm still not over it.
"Take a step forward,"
But there's a fence
And I've never been
A good climber.
Remember the tree
Behind your trailer?
Three hundred and sixty five days,
Twelve hours,
And twenty two minutes.
There's a white box here
That I'm itching to write in
With all the anger and the regret
That's constricting my chest,
But the words escape me.
These are hollow.
These are ghosts.
Guess I've gotten too good
At keeping it in.
Called you selfish the
Last time we spoke.
Hell, you hung up on me
On Christmas.
But there hasn't been a day
Where I don't see a child
Smile up at their daddy
And my eyes don't glance away.
Three hundred and sixty five days,
Twelve hours,
And twenty nine minutes.,
And I'm still as sorry as I was
The first second I knew.
This doesn't really feel like a poem. I just needed to share with someone. Anyone.
Hope you found peace, dad.
