Conversation With A Dead Man

Writing words that cannot be spoken,
trying to heal a heart that’s numb and broken.
Filling a blank page with tears that have been shed,
seeking words to explain the shit in my head.
Nothing but a void left, along with your things.
Your tools, your clothes, and the pain your leaving brings.
Your lunchbag at the house, still contains stale chips,
a can of tuna, and some crackers that will never touch your lips.
Mom will never throw it away, I know. Somehow it comforts her.
Like a sign you’ll be home again, not buried in dirt.
You left us your memories, and so many broken hearts-
I guess you thought it would bring us together, it’s only ripping us apart.
I don’t understand why you deserted us, I know you were in pain,
but if only you would have quit drinking. Your death was in vain.
It serves no purpose, didn’t solve a damn thing.
Only left us hurting, angry, and with no one but you to blame.
Dammit Dad, why’d you leave me??? You knew you could turn to me!
You didn’t even call to say goodbye before you set yourself free.
You left us here with all the "if only’s" and "what if’s"...
didn’t you think about us??? Didn’t you give a shit???
I love you Dad and I fucking miss you, more than you’ll ever know.
I just wish you would’ve given me the chance to tell you before you let us go.