john, with regards to the afterlife, on your birthday

the band of gold you once wore sits upon my finger today, it feels as if it weighs the same as a dwarf star

i don’t know what to say

every year i dread your birthday

the scab gets ripped off and the pain flows freely

if energy is neither created nor destroyed, then you are still here in some form

watching over us

the kids are perfect, i know how much you would have spoiled them, crushed them in your famous hugs, the scent of marlboros, lite and old spice hanging heavy as you sat with teary eyes you tried to hide

if you could speak, i would listen to every word, if you could hear i would spill it all out

i miss you, dad

i love you

happy birthday

ignore my tears, it’s dusty in here, like it is every year since you’ve been gone


3 thoughts on “john, with regards to the afterlife, on your birthday

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