how can i talk
about someone
who wasn't more
than a shadow of a silhouette,
not visible enough
for me to say you were there.
whether a poet or a friend,
rhythm and verse
cannot make amends
to tears in a timeline
i would have rather spent
with a father to hold up
up above his shoulder,
to teach me, show me
and watch me grow older.
saying i love you now
would be like saying
it to the wind,
smashing words
out into the sky
that'll only give me rain
and say that at least
i won't have to say goodbye.
