Some words from those most close
but nothing from the one that mattered most.

The one that could have filled the holes
he left when he left.

I've cut you off like an extra arm,
something useful at times,
but mostly just in the way.

And sometimes I look down at it
on Father's Day,
and wonder why
I ever let
you in.

So now I've severed my phantom limb
made your death in my life permanent
and with losing you from my life
I regain it.

You bend
and almost break.
My pretty dead doll
skin pale as bone
spreads her legs
like a gate to bliss
now wide open.

Worship your white stone temple
words whispered from my thirst.

My hand over your mouth.

With tongue and fingers
I write my worship.

All zeros and ones
binary becoming
the form of my dream
out of the digital screen.

When I was sitting at home, considering suicide,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was too nervous to even go outside,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was staring down the barrel,
you were ******* someone else.
When I was needing love and protection,
you were ******* someone else.

And when I needed my
wife,
soul-mate,
friend,
lover,
more than ever,
guess what you were doing?

Yes come,
let's surround ourselves
with each other.

I want to spread you open
like the blank pages I use
to write on,
and cover you in the poetry
of my lust.

I weigh down on you
through sunset
and into the black.

I nearly crush your little frame,
reducing you into your safety.

Can you feel me?

Who are you?

I'm here,
waking in a sweat,
from a dream too sweet,
to let go.