So yeah,
Maybe she does like calling guys daddy
But not for the reason you may think
Maybe it’s because she’s looking for fatherly love
Because she could never quite find it in the places she was supposed to
So instead she was left to wander
Through the constant murmurs of
“You must have daddy issues”
“Your dad left? You must have a daddy fetish”
“I’ll be your daddy”
Because people would rather fetishize an emotional trauma than
Acknowledge the pain
Maybe all she knows is unkempt promises
Because the only time her “daddy” came close to actually being one
Was whenever he kissed her on the forehead goodbye
Promising to play with her later
Look at her drawing later
Read her a bedtime story another night
And walked out the door
Maybe all she knows is love through screaming
I love you
I hate you
I love you
I hate you
Maybe all she knows is purple, blue, green, red and yellow are the colors of tender love and care
Why else would they show up on whoever her “daddy” touched
Psychologists say that it’s not uncommon to marry someone that is similar to one of your parents
But what happens when all she’s known from her “daddy” is neglect
Because her dad would rather choose being with a new family than the one that taught him how NOT to be a dad
Because her “daddy” would rather say “talk to your mom about this”
Than listen to his own flesh and blood’s worries himself
Because her “daddy” would rather come in and out of her life when it’s convenient for him
So now
She’s left
To sit alone at the end of the day to think that
Maybe if she had just been a “good girl”
And behaved,
If she had just listened to her “daddy”
Maybe she wouldn’t have to look for one
In other men

“Five minutes,” I say
As I lay on the ground
My hair sprawled around me.
I disappear
You find me
We speed walk to your room
As you hold my hand
Our kisses are fervent.
We don’t leave your room till tomorrow afternoon.

You are nothing to me at first
But you treat me nicely.
I give you something
I can never take back
But it’s okay
Because it’s nice
And you are gentle.
Even when you are rough
Somehow your touches are still caresses.

God, do you look like a player
Maybe it’s a warning, but either way
You aren’t my type at all
And I make it known
But somehow you reel me in.
We get along quick
I’m weird, but you are most definitely weirder
And I love that part of you,
(At least I will
I just don’t know it yet).

I am fragile and weak.
You don’t leave me breathless.
It is not love at first sight.
But I do notice your dimples,
One on either side of your face
Dimples I’d come to know
Dimples that would be my biggest mistake.

Leaving had always been an easy concept for me to grasp
Especially when my dad left
And I was left with nothing but sad, withered letters
And the instillment of trust issues was ****** upon me.
It was even easier when I found out my grandpa left my grandma
The one healthy relationship I had held onto falling apart before my eyes
And yes, although they are still together
Every time I ask about my grandpa to my grandma
I can see in her eyes that she wished things went differently,
That maybe if he had asked to marry her
Then maybe she wouldn't be second guessing if he loved her everyday.
Maybe I truly understood the art of leaving when
My stepfather kept leaving at regular hours during the day
And coming home and odd hours of the night
And my mom was left to cry in our bathroom
While I called my brother on the phone begging him to make me understand what was happening,
Until all my brother could say was, "Kris..."
And I knew, just knew, this was him breaking my mother's heart
For the second time in her life.
With you, I began to understand that leaving happens in two parts
Emotionally and physically.
I felt you leave emotionally
So I was the one that left physically.
And now that I know you'll never be in my life again
And I left my heart with you
The art of leaving has become a foreign concept to me.
How does someone just leave?
How do I leave when so much of me is left in you?