Pain is genuine and open.
You never absorbed mine the way I did yours .
The yeast turned to sugar turned to poison turned to tears.

I saw you only in old buildings, over grown yards, dive bars, and yellow walls.

crawling vines lost their appeal.
My mother loves moss grown between cracks of forgotten homes.
She hasn’t seen what I have.
Charming as it is as first, the smell of old neighborhoods never leaves you.
Anything can be appealing when it’s new, including old houses and old pain.

He didn’t care much for living. But I saw the whole that that leaves behind

They build tall buildings that are meant to sway
A strong wind carries a force to make heavy stones bend and readjust
Pressure against steel beams
It must be uncomfortable to be so big and move with the wind
It must be comforting to know the wind can’t break you

I am my fathers child
Logical: meaning everything is annoying: because the earth is very old and I am very young.

A body holds on to trauma like salt dissolved in water
I am the water and I am swimming in it always
Somedays it’s an ocean and I am floating
Trusting the moon to pull me in a direction that makes sense, one that’s natural and ancient
Other times it seeps into open wounds and stings
But salt cannot hurt salt
Not yet diluted enough to breed life

You stopped brushing your teeth and I started flossing.
Every time you opened a beer I drank an extra glass of water.
It wasn’t love, but I don’t know what else to call it.

My hair came out slowly . Stand by stand. On pillow cases and sweaters. His stayed full and long. I always envied his curl. I cut mine off and didn’t like his reaction. Mine is growing back now.  I think he cut his.