Should I cry of guilt

For using poems as paint

To imagine the pieces of you I’ve not forgotten

Giving a life to all the days you’ve been gone

 

Painting a face into poem

So it can fly like the birds

In the seas

In the skies

With your name

 

A portraitist I am, illuminating

Your smiles, your face, your love

Father, I am because you were

 

My innocence is so in guilt

For having to masquerade how I feel

To not tell you often, that I love you

Entirely

Eternally.