this isn’t surgery like you expected it to be (because no one will make it out alive)

the first time I saw my
father cry
was over two years ago
and I couldn’t stand to
be in the room
that bled virgin tears
without a drop of blood.

i wanted to grab his hand
put it in mine and tell him
that I was hurting, too,
that I had loved
and lost
too,
but he wasn’t there; and it
turns out
he never was.

i haven’t seen my father cry since

and now you are faced with
the same room
and a pain I have grown all
too familiar with
but I will not be there
to hold your bigboyhand
and cradle your
littleboyheart
and though those tear drops
will be real, i will
not be there to wipe them away

it’s been two years, at least,
and I cannot remember the smell
of the room or what I was wearing
or that my body was covered
in goosebumps despite a temperature
of ninety-one; I remember the taste
of salt on my lips and my grungy
hair sticking to my face and the fact
that my father could not look me
in the eye.

however;
two years from tomorrow i will remember
your hand in mine, the taste of your lips
on my neck and the fact that after your
first big blow, it was me who led you
out of the darkness.

06/24/2004

Author's Note: for g. and his first brush with death.


i wish i could speak to him everything i feel. i wish i knew how to use words and my mouth. // this isn't very good. blah, writing this makes me feel worse when all i want to do is make him feel better.

Posted on 06/25/2004
Copyright © 2026 Lauren Pearl