I can't paint, I can't paint
you properly. Not even a little,
not even a little can I paint a portrait of your smile-
I miss it.
My brain fails to remember the sound of your voice
Headaches bash against my skull like tidal waves
attempting to remember the grip of your hugs.
How did they feel? I once knew.
I once knew everything about you.
I knew that you loved feeling the smoke of your cigarettes
roll down your throat, tickling it like a feather tickles a nose.
I knew that you loved your worn-down pair of leather sandals,
brown on the buckle and black on the base.
I knew that you loved poetry.
I knew that you loved to express yourself in the same way that I do.
I know you loved portraits.
So I will create a few portraits for you.
A few portraits for Daddy.