You were wrong about me…

You were
Wrong
About me

And I am glad I realize this now
Because you would never have been the one to admit it
And now I am done
You gave me nothing
Except snide remarks

You never had a good thing to say
        Never had a kind word leave your lips
  That is until it was greased with black velvet

Then and only then
They pour out, slurring and sloshing
Like the last drink before bed

Only your words don’t come with ice
Like your ***** have to

But some times
More often than not
No words are said at all

For more than a year at times
Nothing was said

No Happy birthday
No merry Christmas
And least of all
A Hello

So now that I have spent time without you
Out of earshot
I am starting to see how wrong you were
But I am also seeing you for who you are
You are no longer the reflection
Looking up at me in the broken glass
                              I had to swept up from the floor
You aren’t the spontaneous, Unreliable
Dad who goes out and buys a sailboat

No instead I see who you really are

Hurt, Scared, Defensive
Only you can’t raise a child  at arm’s length
I can relate to your child hood
After all I too know what its like to try and sift pearls of wisdom from the fountain of inebriated words pouring from a parents mouth
Maybe I just got better at it than you
It takes time and you generally just end up with handfuls of ash but every once in a while you see the shimmery white bead of wisdom standing out from its dark surroundings



I do not
In anyway
Condone what you did
Do
But there comes a point that I realized
Part of where our relationship being muddled messed up and painful falls to me
It is not my fault you did what you did
But it was mine that I expected any different
  A bad night
  Ending in tears
  Harsh words and slammed doors
  And profuse apologies the next morning
  The usual every other court mandated weekend
None of which my fault
But the four-hour car ride home
In which I usually decided to forgive you...
     That was
I should have never believed after the second or    
    third time that things would change
After the eighth or ninth
    Or when I lost count
I gave you second chance after second chance
Hoping one day that old ugly saying wouldn’t be true when I woke up the next morning

That saying being:
“I have three priorities
*****
Smokes
And my truck”

I guess I can’t fault you for being honest but when you said sorry and you looked so sincere is when I wanted your honesty to come through while in actuality that’s where it faltered

So it’s not worth me holding a grudge
Getting back and trying to get even

When you hold in all of that poison it hurt you more  
  than who you hold the grudge against

So
   You were wrong about me
I thought you should know and one day if you don’t yet, you will see that
One day I will look back and see how wrong you were but not resent you for it
It's when I realized this I started to forgive you
It may not be okay what happened
But I will be okay so I can’t waist myself on being angry, it only hurts me


So you know what dad

I forgive you

Did I forget to mention
How adorable you are
When you're intoxicated?

Or was the sarcasm not thick enough?

And do you forget
When "I dont wanna be dr-drunk anymore"
Dribbled from your mouth?

You stink.
Go home.

love is
the sound of the voice of a girl who lives
3,781.8 km away
who calls you just to hear you say
Hello,
i love you,
i am not only here
but i am
listening.
Because long distance charges don't apply
to those who have telephone wires attached
to their hearts.

love comes
in waves of
strange connections,
painstaking inventions
that enable
the sad to meet the sad
the sick to meet the sick
where only a fragile minority find each other and decide
to stay and not feed each others
insatiable demons
because there is a mutual understanding
of what it is to be at war with oneself
constantly fighting to get through
another day
where something as small as a
hello,
i love you
is enough to make you want
to stay.

love is
a series of lessons you learn
from a girl
who is wise beyond her years
who is too young to be so sad
who is too smart to be so uncertain
who is too brilliant to realize her own
abysmal radiance.

Dearest Hillary,
in exactly one month
you will be greeting me
with the same open heart you always have
the only difference is
i will finally be able
to feel
it
beat.

When my youngest brother was born,
I was angry at him before he'd uttered a word.
I was as furious as a little six year old could be,
because he turned out to not be a girl.

There is a gentle thought that often springs
to life in me, because it speaks of you.
Its reasoning about love’s so sweet and true,
the heart is conquered, and accepts these things.
‘Who is this’ the mind enquires of the heart,
‘who comes here to ****** our intellect?
Is his power so great we must reject
every other intellectual art?
The heart replies ‘O, meditative mind
this is love’s messenger and newly sent
to bring me all Love’s words and desires.
His life, and all the strength that he can find,
from her sweet eyes are mercifully lent,
who feels compassion for our inner fires.’

When we meet a person we subconsciously inspect each feature
We intuitively notice flaws and perfections
the less we see a person the less our eyes renew the image in our minds
we focus so ******* reinventing an exact, lifelike image
causing it to eventually slip away
so we try harder, pushing the image even further
until sooner or later we begin to question ourselves
and a cloud of mist forms and impedes our ability to visualize
creating more distance between the memory and ourselves
and no matter how hard we resist
we gradually lose pieces of the face that will never reappear
and wish our eyes could mend the broken image
just one last time
no one has solved the mystery of how to capture this memory
or even hold it for eternity
so as victims we watch it slip away
we helplessly forget
and pray for one last chance to remember
not the ambiguous, blurred remembrance
but the clear, flawless one