A letter to my father
i buried
my hopes
my dreams
my grief
my tears
my faith
my love
when i buried you
but i've learned
that with
every tear
every pill
every day
every time i have to be put
back together
kerosene
ignites
feeds
the fire that burns
in my soul
it's just
food for the
garden
that grows on your grave
born from
you
and my love
and my broken dreams
it is hope
that one day
i will bloom
into the blossom
delicate
fragile
and still so resilient
that you thought me to be
YOU ARE READING
era
Poetrycan the words flowing through my mind be crafted into something beautiful? something worthy? *my wildly terrible attempts at poetry because why not?
