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I hate bouquets of flowers, the smell of lavender, and chocolate ice cream.
If you take me to a movie when I’m tired, be prepared for me to fall asleep halfway through, missing the best parts.
I’ll forget to put mascara on in the morning, but remember the shirt you wore on our first date, or the story you told about your sister in the second grade.
I know when to bite my tongue, but sometimes lose my tact.
I’m honest, independent, and can carry the groceries up three flights of stairs in one trip.
I’m not perfect, nor am I afraid to admit when I am wrong. I keep the doors to my heart locked up, but if you knock I might let you in.
I pray you become strong
But the world never makes you hard.
I pray you know joy
But also sadness and pain.
I pray you always speak the truth
But that you can recognize when to bite your tongue.
I pray you know how to lose
But also that you win gracefully.
I pray you have a wild soul
But always stay grounded
Finally I pray you know you are loved
Even through the storms.
To my future daughter
When she asks about me,
Tell her everything, let the truth break, yet simultaneously heal her.
Tell her how I stayed too long, and gave you too many chances.
Tell her how I stayed up at night  painting all your red flags white, hoping to parley, but always surrendering.
Tell her about the night we met, and the last goodbye.
Tell her everything you never told me, why you stayed so long, but left so quickly.
That park we went to
The first month
We had met?
I walked through it yesterday,
It still smelled like you.
Six chairs sat around a table, just another mundane family dinner filled with the sound of clinking forks and arbitrary questions.
Nothing could have prepared them for the secret the youngest boy would spew out of his mouth. His little sister stares,mouth agape, for it wasn’t his secret to tell it was hers.
Forks hit ceramic plates, questions and phone calls ensue, “a seven year old doesn’t make this up” cries her mother.
The little girl in the sixth chair, sits with the world buzzing around her, somehow relieved and heavy at the same time.
They say a drunk mans words are a sober mans thoughts. Is that why you don’t drink? So you can protect the secrets you cling to like a rollercoaster to its tracks.
What if you pressed that bottle to your lips, and let the fire of your throat consume you, would you tell me you can’t stop loving me, or would you tell me I was a mistake and you wish you never met me?  Either way maybe I’d finally know the truth and whether it was safe to finally stop loving you.
The morning light shines through the window as the aroma of coffee fills the air.
He saunters in as she butters his morning toast. Their eyes meet, hers filled with innocence and love, his filled with secrets and tears. I’m sorry he begins as she sets his plate in front of him. The world seems to disappear as her head spins like a merry go round. She sits down at the table, he reaches across and grabs her hand, as she becomes paralyzed by shock and betrayal, unable to pull away she sits in silence, as hot tears fall and the coffee goes cold.
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