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Echos of a missing father
I'msupposedtobeyourlilgirl.youdon'tevenremembermybirthday. WhatgradeIamin. Myfavoritecolor. Youdon'tevenknowmyfavoriteflower. You'retherebutnotpresent YourlikeaghostwhohauntsmeandrandomlyshowsupbutIneverknow whenit'snear. Fatheranddaughterdancecomesaround. Butagainyouraghost. That'snotthere. Foryears Andyears.
IwishIcouldcallouttoyou Buttherewon'tbeananswerback. Untilyouwantittobe. ButtheonlywayIcanhearbackfromthisghostifIreachoutfirst. StrangerightafterallthisIthinkitshouldstayasaghost.
November14th, the day I met you. Your presence became a quiet song, a melody my soul had been waiting to hear and though I fought it and avoided it , the truth was clear. My heart has already chosen you
TherearedayswheneverIfindmyselfinan emptyheadspace,voidofanyemotionyet there’stwothatalwaysattachthemselvestome; despairandhopelessness.I’dfindmyselfrocking toandfrowantingcomfortyetIdon’t understandwhyIneedit.Itrulynever understoodmywantsandneeds,always adaptingtowhatpeoplewantorwhattheyneed; mirroringtheirdesireswithmyown.
