it isn't what I expected to be
it's what I became
it's something I can't even write about
but I do and will
I was here
in my own way I stood by him never understanding
why
something never let go
 
he was a son in ways
and now the flowers are crushed
they're there
they aren't like they were but I hold them anyway
I hold them as if they are still beautiful to me
because they are