If you would have asked me to stay
i would not have said no,
it would never have meant yes

I despised those pants you used to wear, the ones that fell too short and landed too far above your shoes.
it made you look like a child who had out grown his pants.

your mom gave me a look of distrust; she was always right about me.

I didn't cheat on you the morning in March when you accused me, although I wanted to.
in June I cheated with the bartender from the karaoke bar where you sang Bob Marley that one spring night.

I thought I would regret it, I didn't.
I told you I loved you because you said it first, I didn't mean it for another 3 months.

I never liked your singing voice,
or New York City.
I still dream of the way you looked at me the first day we danced.
I cried about you last week stuck in LA traffic.

I think about you every other morning, and when I'm drinking red wine.

you were always a lover. sometimes I just needed a friend.

Ive tried to convince myself it wasn't my fault-
the truth is you would never have been enough
my burden to bear is that I'm addicted to chaos… excitement… fire.

Your burden is that you cared too much.

you are tranquil, I am a hurricane.

I want to make you laugh again.

Your mom calls and says she's sending a plane ticket home
you email your college professors and explain that you'll have to make-up the midterm exam
you decide to drive the 1,547 miles back home instead of taking a flight.
you ask your roommate for any ******* she has left from Saturday night  
you suddenly realize that last weekend will be the last time you dance for a while.
eventually you'll realize that you will never smile the same again.
You show up to your brothers funeral hungover and smelling of cheap gin.
you curse god, but you don't abandon him
you've always loved a good horror film, the blood and gory always thrilled you.
but this is real life, and romanticizing death is a luxury afforded only to hollywood films.
you hardly cry, tears will never be the glue that put together the pieces of your broken life.
you scream, and scream and scream.
but you're never too lost to be found

I still sing aloud in my car
Loudly and out of tone, I sing to my favorite rock songs with wild abandon
and when my friends ask me if I'm over you
I say yes.
I'm not
When my mother asks me why my eyes are red
I say my allergies are flaring up.
I lie.
because every bit of oxygen I inhale is consumed with you
but I still sing
so theres hope.

I asked myself today, who am I.
“Who am I?”
“Who am I…”
A question that demands attention and continually forces a new, more thoughtful, more concise, more self-aware answer, over, and over, and over again.
The question we revisit so long as we continue to exist; so long as we continue to progress, and even digress.  
So I ask myself today as I am moving into new and uncharted waters,
“Who am I?”
Despite my best attempts, such a dynamic part of MY answer lies with YOU.
Today, as it stands, I am a woman who does not truly have her father.
I am a woman who faces the treacheries of this world, with very minimal help and love from her father.
A woman who rejoices in the beauty and awesomeness of this universe without being able to fully share that with her father.  
I am navigating this life with out your guidance, nor your wisdom.
But, I am healthy and growing and beautiful and passionate and smart, and most importantly, I am happy.
I am happy, despite you.
And that saddens me.
Today, as it stands, you are alive and well, so this should sadden you too.
Because when you face your question “who am I?”
Your answer should have me in it. Your answer should contain me so completely that you simply cannot separate our two identities.
You should be able to truthfully admit to yourself that a part of who you are,
A part of your answer to one of life’s most important and unavoidable questions is that you are MY father… MY dad.
As long as you are not able to truly admit this to yourself,
It should sadden you too.

We live in the reality of spirituality
The universe only lets us think we make the rules, so we'd believe
we had the power to pick our own lovers.
Well the Truth is we were handpicked for each other.

You were always going to be mine, I was always going to be yours.

To the people I once loved loudly,
the ones I am no longer in daily conversation's with.
I still love you.
Quietly,
in the moment the sun rise's,
and the last breath before the sun falls.

We consumed an entire bottle of cheap *****.
I wore that perfume you adore.
We laughed like children the whole way into town
stopping,
to kiss,
every few seconds.
Because maybe,
just maybe, lust is
temporary obsession.
That frantic need to close the gaps between two bodies
like all you are
will break and burst
if you don't touch.
that night you tattoo'd my name across your chest,
the same color as your skin.
we awoke mid day, deathly hungover with no recollection of the previous nights festivities.
And In the end,
I lost the city,
the restaurants we found together,
the friends we made... you kept.  
I got the dog,
she never loved you quite as much as me anyway.
And now, its summer, as you lay on the caramel sand along side your new girlfriend,
the sun slowly and adamantly browning your body,
my name appears
ever so subtly.
I always had a way of sneaking back into your soul,
never letting you escape my perfectly beautiful grasp.
as though your veins have a mind of their own.
As though your body refuses to believe that I am no longer running through you.

Words can not be fixed to detail the magnitude of this feeling.
Euphoria never could be contained in something as small as a sentence anyway.
and so...
I only whisper your name in the dusk.
because some thing's are to be loved in the shadows.
For it is only through darkness we can preserve this,
hidden,
somewhere deep
where the world can't hear us.

You will never write poetry,
but you will always understand
my need to slip out of bed at 4am and put pen to paper
as I draft love stories
that will never quite compare to ours.