Bleat

I just found this in draft from a while ago in November. Not a wonder filled poem, just some words from the land of loss. I was inspired by some imbecile who writes apple pie poetry and says that we shouldn't cry when our loved ones pass, because apparently they really aren't gone at all!! Yes, apparently, they are still with us, and near - as our angels, apparently they are in the rainbows and butterflies and the pollen on our noses.. well when i look around dufus, i don't see my dad anywhere and i doubt i will anytime soon .. stupid fucktard poets who write candy floss Crap.. Capital C

You set the butterflies free into my night

Trying to make me feel better about my loss

You won me over with the butterflies

But I know he lives among the bees

(G)littering me with an army of words

No longer do we sit in the familiar chairs

Partaking in our morning tea ritual

Your sickly sweet candy is on the roadside poet

Your gasps and bleats cannot fill this cavern

Please don’t cry, it makes me uneasy

For my memories are forever young

And the ache in my heart is my master

And I am led once again to the old green chair

Far away from you and your apple pie smile

~lily

i miss you, a lot