The Pecan Tree

Drooling red from my eyes to meet the bitter

sun that shines past into light. Setting fire

to curtains in hope that you’re dreaming.

Destroying the tomb of memories from your

life. In the room full of family, but couldn’t

find one. In the hallways lit up brightly,

but couldn’t find myself. I laid drunk on

the concrete on the day of your birth in

celebration of all you were worth.

I am my father’s son.

I am no one.

I cannot love.

It’s in my blood.