"I don't love you anymore."

I've always been told
That you should never let go
Of a person
Who can see the sadness
Behind your smile
And hear your screams
When you are silent

Three years it has been
Since I was introduced
To a person
Who rapidly became
My other half,
My panda child,
My best friend.
Up until then,
I was forever surrounded
By small talk
And friends without meaning

Through all the
*******
And
Heartbreaks,
She had been there
Along with
All the petty
Events inbetween
And
I know
In my coffee
And
Cacti
Scented soul
That she will
Continue to do so
For a very,
Very,
Long time.

And one day,
She is going to arrive home
To a place and a person
She loves
And then she will understand
That dying
Isn't necessary
In order to
Go to heaven.
And
If a boy ever
Borrows her heart
And returns it infected
I will personally
Destroy
What's left
Of his sad
Little
Life.
Because
Knowing her,
She will give him everything
And he **** well
Better do the same.

Brooke Roman,
You are beautiful
And I hope you enjoy this poem
That doesn't really make much sense
But
I thought it was necessary
Because
You mean the world to me
And
I would not be here
If you had not come
And saved me
And
You can truly say
You appreciate beauty
Because
You've continously stopped
To pick up the pieces
Of my insecurities
That self-identify
To a beer bottle
Smashed onto a rock
Probably by my father

You are perfect
And
I love you
More than I love coffee
And pizza
And that's saying something.

I love you a lot
And if the feeling is not mutual
Please pretend
That this was just another
Stupid poem

Dad
Rhymes with bad
And mad
Which is what
He always is;
Although now psychically here
He's mentally at the closest alcohol store

Now facing reality
He is a free man
Who should be trying
To be a better person
And father
But once again
He gripped onto a bottle
And purchased
More drugs
Because
Instead of putting
His life back together with glue
He's using his usual
escape

In the end
He is more like
An abandoned house
With echoing halls
And large cracks
In the foundation
And spiderwebs
Covering the walls
Which symbolize
His heart
Because
It stopped working
The day he left
Without a goodbye
Or
"I love you"
Just
A slam
Of a door

Its sad
That I am
Not surprised
That he
Disappeared
Once again
Without
A word
And instead
Has taken
To drowning
In
A bottle
Of *****

My father was always told
a loveless man should always ******* with his left hand
because it supposedly felt
as if someone else was doing it
It all began with a bottle and a bag of marijuana
which quickly transitioned
into five bottles and various drugs
which quickly transitioned
into an addiction
that lasted for years
that continuously causes
sadness and anger
denial and depression
and the worst of all
mistakes
that cannot be undone
with a hundred “I love you's”
and “I’m proud of you's”
which he continuously states
because he reads me like a novel
and burns the pages one by one
until there is nothing left
but ash
and
a coffin filled with regret
Once filled with disappointment,
he now admits
how very wrong he was
which I've wanted my whole life
but now
I’m not even happy
or angry
or upset
I am nothing.
And
I’m beginning to wonder
if when he pushed me away
for the last time
before his final farewell
if he used his left hand
in order for him to feel
as if someone else was doing it.
I've been coughing up
the various post-it notes
that are meaningless
with his new addresses
for years.
It's been ten years
since my father first disappeared
when a newborn arrived in the household
Nine years
since he began secretly growing marijuana in our garage
in order to make him feel better
and avoid his responsibilities
like the **** plague
and spent
the majority of his paycheck
on every drug
under the sun
Eight years
since his mother died
and the drugs and anger
really began
Seven years
since he passed out on the front lawn
and nearly died from intoxication
body full of alcohol and multiple drugs
body thrown against a tree
ambulance and police sirens blaring
in the distance
as I stood scared
in the house
with a crying brother
and an upset mother
Six years
since the final fight
between him and my mother
he held a knife
firmly in his palm
and he vanished
for weeks
for months
and he threatened suicide
for the first time
out of many
Five years
since my mother stopped accidentally
setting his place
at the dinner table
and the final divorce papers came
and we started a new life
but he
just got worse
Four years
since we lived in and out of hotels
with prostitutes
and drug-addicts
as neighbors
Three years
since he found himself an equal
who is just
as ****** up
as he is
Two years
since he showed up drunk
to a birthday party
and full of rage
he took as many drugs as he could
to ease the embarrassment
One year
since I thought I were to see him
for the last time
because
I was sick and tired
of being sick and tired
Six months
since everything happened
and I finally spoke my mind
and watched him
make an even bigger mess
out of his “sad” life
that he created
himself
Two months
since I last received a letter
because
he was too embarrassed
that a disappointing daughter like me
did not visit him
and accept his mistakes
because
he is now
my favorite little bundle
of disappointment
One month
since I decided
that this poem
was the parting gift
I am to send him
because
he is more
like
an abandoned house
whose windows are broken
with strange noises echoing off the walls
than a father
I guess
you can just call me
daddy's favorite
little loss
of contact
with actuality
He is now just a galloping apology
trapped in the throat
of ten years ago
and
I hope he kept the receipt
on all those excuses he bought
because
they stopped working
when his heart did
And maybe one day
we'll reunite
once he decides
to make amends
and put his life back together
with glue
instead of
alcohol
and
drugs

At least
he taught me
how to make an exit
out of one's life
and
to be careful
not to choke
on all the lies
that he had told
over the years