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Edited.

My girlfriend has had trouble sleeping
For as long as she can remember.

None of us willing to worship the
Consumer's deity that Valentine's day

Has become, we dressed for February
And lit a bonfire behind the barn.  

She prepared gourmet hotdogs,
I provided beer, homemade wine

And carried firewood. She turned to
Me, eyes narrowing as the wind

Turned, and smoke caressed her
Fire-warm face.

This is the best Valentine's ever.*
Her face all smile.

All smile and embers.
Now, back in the house,

Her breathing and barely audible
Snores from the bedroom are pure

Music. Sometimes fresh air and
Fire is all

It takes to find silence
Enough

To
Rest.
Strange glowing orb
mystical magnetic oracle
points us aimlessly
in and out of love
pushes and pulls
the tide, spellbound
sea wrecked, sandbarred
left high and dry
deep in the night
foolish we, two
fools of moon
I am a man against violence.
See my own blood spilled, rather
Than that of any other.

But I have a wall full of knives.
I've collected them my whole life.
Still do. Tools of war.

Tools of craftmanship.
I know the story behind every
Blade, Bowie or handmade

Russian letter opener.
I am not a man of religion.
I see God in every thing.

Worship all; therefore none.
But I collect rosaries.
The one on my desk, I bought in

Vatican City. The one above my
Bed was brought to me from
Transilvania.

I know the story behind each
One. I may seem confused at
Times; contradictory.

Construction working poet.
Heavy metal loving meditator.
iPad wielding viking.

I collect interacting opposites.
Wear snakeskin boots with my
Funeral suit.

Shave only my head at times.
Warrior monk. Knives and rosaries.
Stabbing at

Gods. Praying
For my
Enemies.
Maybe I will just watch the movie alone.
Maybe I will just make the rolls and the pie.
Maybe I can sit here and list off what I am thankful for
Or maybe I won't.
Once again you've ruined it for me.
Once again you are in my head telling me
I ****.
I'm the worst daughter anyone could ask for.
Well, congrats! I'm alone tomorrow.
You got your wish.
Are you thankful for that?

Do you think about me?
Do you wonder what I am doing?
Do you think each time you take a bite
Of the crummy pie crust you make
How you wish I was there to make it?
No.
I bet you don't.

It feels like to me you are glad.
Glad I'm not there
To embarrass you once again
With my colorful clothes
With my loud voice
Saying all the wrong things.
Well I hope that empty chair
Stares you in the face
As you sit down with your fake happy family
And you miss me.

And as you go around the table
Asking what everyone is thankful for
I wonder if you are man enough to say
You are thankful for the boring silence
The lack of arguments
The dull colors
For the extra space.
Because I'm not there.
And you made it so.
But just so you know:
I am thankful.
I am thankful for who I am.
I am thankful I have the people in my life that I do.
I am thankful you taught me what you did.
I am thankful I get some silence.
I am thankful that despite everything
You are still my dad.
And I know we don't speak.
And I know you will never read my words.
But maybe
Just maybe
One day you will let me back in
And you will realize
How you are not thankful
That you let me go.
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