See, here's the thing about love. Its this quiet ache that settles in your bones. Not a sharp pain, more like the constant hum of a refrigerator you can't quite tune out. And it's this wanting, this deep-down, kid-sized wanting that just yearns to be loved back, that I've learned to bury deep down.

I've always pictured it, you know? The whole daddy's girl thing. The scraped knees getting kissed better, the bad drawings stuck proudly on the fridge, the late-night talks about nothing and everything feeling like the most important thing in the world. That hand, big and calloused, swallowing mine whole, a silent promise to always care.
But the mirror, man, that **** mirror. It throws back this face, this map of features that isn't mine, not truly. It's hers. The blueprint of the woman who carved out a hollow space in his chest, a space I can't fill, no matter how hard I try.
I am a walking memory of his regrets, and I've always lived in the shadow of her mistakes.

So every time I reach, every time I lean in, hoping for that easy warmth, that unguarded smile, there's this flicker. A shadow crossing his eyes. It's not anger, not exactly. More like a reflex, a phantom limb twitching with remembered hurt.
And I get it, I do. Intellectually, at least. I’m a walking, breathing trigger. A constant rewind to a story you’d rather leave unspooled.
But this heart, this stupid, hopeful heart of mine? It doesn’t get it. It just feels the distance. The abuse that felt a little too disproportionate. The punishments that felt a little too severe. The acting out, just so you'd look at me. The careful words. The hands that stay just out of reach.

There are no big blow-ups anymore Dad, no dramatic scenes. Just this quiet, persistent absence. This knowing that I’ll always be a reminder, a living photograph of your biggest regret.
And the wanting? It just keeps humming. A low, steady note in the soundtrack of my life. A daddy’s girl in a world where that role was never cast for me. A face in the mirror, a ghost in your gaze. That’s the truth I have to live with I suppose. Yet still, even though it hurts, I still yearn for you to love me. To want to hold me. I miss what I never had.

The years drifted by, a slow steady current.
A feeling, a hum beneath the surface,
always just out of reach.
Like a half-remembered song,
a color you almost saw.
Waiting for a moment, a shoe drop, something just on the tip of your tongue.
Then the sterile chill, the bright lights.
A focused tension.
Drowzy, losing blood,
Panicking.
The fear of the waiting, waiting for that
Moment.
The moment you've spent your whole life waiting for.
And then, a sound.
A raw, insistent cry.
Suddenly, the shape of the waiting
snapping into sharp relief.
Tears rolling down your face,
Muscles slumping.
This small, furious sound.
The missing piece, finally found.

Your Son's first cry.

The ghost of your voice, a whiskey-soaked whisper,
haunts the empty spaces between my ribs.
Your lingering presence aches like a ****** bruise.
Even in a crowded room,
your shadow dances on the periphery of my vision.
My heart, a stubborn compass,
always points towards you,
a magnetic north that leads me astray.
I build walls of indifference,
plant gardens of new affections,
but the roots of our entanglement
run deeper than any cultivated soil.
You're invasive,
Killing the light, and any hope of freedom
From your smile.
You are the siren song,
the shipwreck I yearn to return to.
The familiar ache of your absence
feels more comforting than the tentative warmth of new beginnings.
I have thought it through.
And the conclusion is a bitter surrender.
This is my fate,
to orbit your gravity,
a satellite forever lost in your orbit.
You are a toxic cycle I surrender myself to.
Unwillingness has never felt so relieving.

He walks with grace like butterfly wings flutter
A scent like lavender,
Skin like butter.
His soft spoken voice, a calming sound
Akin to honey, bees flying around.

But he carries a sadness
Deep in his eyes
A sorrow that dares not see the sunrise
Perhaps a lost love, or an action filled with regret.
The weight of the knowledge has him affixed to his bed.

The townsfolk wonder,
who could he be?
A man of few words, a mystery.
But everyone knows, him by his scent
The fragrance of lavender,
undertones of torment.

One day he vanished..
without a trace.
No one knew where he went,
no one bothered to chase.
His fragrance lingered in the air
A sweet reminder
Of a man so rare

It was later revealed,
he took his life.
The sadness too great,
Emotions a strife.
But his lavender garden, a final farewell
From a man who suffered an untold hell.

The townsfolk mourned
The loss of a friend
The scent of lavender,
A bittersweet end.

The lavender man can now finally rest,
He didn't do great, but he tried his best.

My heart screams
Sorrow-filled moans.
They stay aching in my chest.
They beat at the dam
Behind my eyes
Begging me to shed tears over you.

I don't.

If this is Earth, what is Heaven?

May space and time come upon us,
Give me guidance in times of need.
Experience shaping sight,
I beg for forgiveness
you once promised me an eternity
for as the hour draws near
I see my ending

A scarred heart
A scared mind
What is Heaven if not our finite time on Earth?

Tread lightly,
Hollowed souls haunt these grounds.
Breathe in,
Taste their decay on your tongue.