the painting

a stream of conscience poem about a painting, and the lost relationship of a father

His eyes will follow you across the room
and you think you're alone there as you
take off your mask but you're never alone
because even at night when your head's stuffed in your pillow
crying about how he left you that night
once so long ago as the moon shone so bright
and the stars he told you would lead the way
all seem to fade away to nothing until the sky
is as dark and empty as you imagine your heart is
but in reality your heart is too full and the sky's too bright
and his eyes still follow you but unlike the rest of the world
these eyes ignore the mask and they see inside to your heart
and they see the bright stars and even though the eyes frighten you
you know that these eyes are your fathers
and you know that you find comfort in these eyes
and you then know that you can find the way
and then you can see the stars and you can see them pointing somewhere
and then you know you will see him again
and he won't be on a wall and you will be crying
but it won't be tears of sorrow but of joy.