Teary Lullaby
The tears swell at my feet.
Glisten from the reflect.
I watch you smile.
The beacon I wish to see just once more.
Shine from that face.
You gave me hope.
I slip as your gone.
Farther I fall down into
Where I should not stray.
I reach out to feel the cloth
Of the screen, not
The cloth I wish to hold,
The cloth of your clothes,
As I cried to your shoulder.
The cloth I felt under my touch
As I told you of my times of sorrow.
Now, I stand alone.
I could once depend on you
To always be there.
Now your not.
Gone were the days
Full of joyous laughter
And your arms around me.
As a protector from
Our times of trial.
Now are the days of
Pain, tears, and sorrow.
All I had once, gone.
My arms itch to wrap
Around your frame.
Bury my face into your neck as
The sobs wrench my body.
But that is not.
I can not.
You left me.
Alone, as the tears fall.
My throat dry and closed.
I find it hard to breath.
The silent waters turn,
Involuntarily,
To wail at the screen.
But you still smile.
As if the moment cannot pass,
It does not on the screen.
I fall to my knees.
And slam my hand onto the metal box,
Which incases your memory.
A portion of my palm hitting
A button, all stops.
I lift my head.
I see your eyes,
Physically flat,
But I am still lost in there depth.
I come back to reality by
A chocking sob from my own parted lips.
My hands ball into fists as I slam them down
Onto the VCR.
The screen blinks black.
As I scream at the unfairness of it all.
I lost your life to the black abyss of death.
I lost your soul to the creator.
I lost your ashes to the wind.
I lost your picture to the fire.
I lost your memory to my anger.
I will never lose you.
You will forever be in my heart.
I miss you,
You know that right? I sit here and cry on the floor of our living room. I still consider it ours. Because where ever I look I still see you. It's been two full years since your death, and I am still shattered inside. I can't breathe when I think of you. Then the tears come, and they wont stop. They never do. I cry myself to sleep at night, on the floor next to our bed. It's to cold and empty with out you. It's not the same. The pillows still smell of you. I don't want that to change. Caden wonders why I sleep on the floor. When he finds me there he always tells me later that night when I'm tucking him in for bed to come and sleep with him if I have nightmares. I never do. They aren't nightmares, I tell my self. Because nightmares are fake. My memories of you are very real.
He's almost three now. He reminds me so much of you. He has your eyes. He makes funny faces when he catches me staring at them. That murky blue. He asks about you all the time. Like what was your favorite color and food. I answer to the best of my knowledge.
He calls to me.
"Yeah, Caden?"
"Why aren't their any pictures of father?"
"Because we never took any."
"Why not?" he asked me. Turning his little body around in my lap to look up at me with those eyes.
"We only wanted to remember the good times." I answered. Looking into the blue depths.
"Then why didn't you take pictures when you were havin' a good time." he says this like it's the most obvious thing in the world. And to him, it probably is. But I have a hard time telling him that there were no good times. So I just look away, and hug him tighter.
I miss you.