to my son

Absence.
Emptiness of a moment that it has been tried to be hide.
Routine. Busyness.
One heart that beat out of rhythm
In the darkness of a moment.

Yes, of course I can live without you,
Yes of course life goes on.
Yes, so much blah, blah..

But at the end of the day,
I’m confronted
with the silence of an empty chair,
An empty room,
An empty ventricle,
That struggles
to by pass the day ..
to by pass the night…
With out noticing your …
Not not being here.
It’s what not being here means.
What represents,
What entails…