Dad has told me since i was born that theres a shark out there with our name on it

Thats why i never go as deep as my shoulders in the ocean

warnings rattle around my head and a sense of abandonment wraps around my legs

maybe the riptide felt like gentle hands leading him home

he’ll find us one day

i wonder if he’s talking about the shark or neevie

often i imagine him living in puerto Rico, having found his way among the waves he would reside in a tiny hut near the ocean side

listening every night as if to receive a whisper saying “come home”

the sole reason of dads birth being to replace his mothers only son

stand in for a deadboy

came out looking the exact opposite 

blonde hair, blue eyes

stevie, her sweet boy

pouring all the bitter, ******* she held into him

didn’t they tell you the bruises left behind were just love marks?

cherish them, it means she cares

mommie dearest loves you so, did you not know?

the closest form of loving someone is hating them and he’s got that down to a science

thoughts of prying the jalousie windows shut during winters in west tampa

counting each bullet that echoed in the distance

sitting on cotton bags skinning potatoes as his father prepared dinner for the navy ship

uncurling himself late at night when the sound of the door opening would alert him that he could finally stop hiding and embrace the warmth his fathers smile radiated