Words for Him

The night is swarthy and I've been thinking
about you lately, wondering if you're eating well
and sleeping well and having no bad dreams.
I've been imagining the place that would wrap your
limbs now, how you'd embrace the warmth
of a new bedcover.

I've been having random pictures of
you and her, the unforgettable her, the peak
of my vulnerability... her.

Has she mentioned me by any chance? Said
anything about my eyes looking like hers?
Has she loved me at all? Ever wanted to
come back in time but death was on the way between
the sky and my fingertips?

Papa, what do they call it when one
begins to breathe nostalgia? Wakes up at 4 a.m.
every night to the screech of it?

I've cried a lot lately, burnt the midnight oil
weeping over the black ribbon at the corner of
your every picture.

What do they call it when a heart morphs
into sad poetry, daddy? I can't take it anymore.
Loneliness is all over the place here and I
miss home, and sometimes at the dead of the
night, I miss our fights. I miss your chuckle and I miss
your existence whenever I run out of love

I swear if you come back, I'd hug you fearlessly.
Just one day,
one hour...

one moment for me to hug you
and never let go.

---

Again, I am so ashamed of the way I've been writing recently.
Just gotta take it all out.