I saw you sitting in your kitchen
Dead, but lingering in your own absence
You were younger
Grazing your hands against the apple place mats
Your nails a pale purple, beautiful and no longer crooked
You were no longer in pain
Your hands would glide through the air
Without the look of hurt I used to see in your eyes
Each time you moved a finger
The friction of your joints
Burning, and hindering movement

I watched him fixing the picture frames
Folding blankets on the back of your favorite chair
His body ancient and crippling,
His mind stained and imprinted
His soul lonely, lacking something
But his faith notices your faint linger
The smell of you still trapped in the couch cushions
Your presence everlasting in this home
He passes you, sitting at the table
With your gentle hands
And for the first time in weeks
He smiles.

Because you pretended
to like my playhouse.
I tried to lock you in
but my three year old body
could not brace
you back enough
to make you stay.

Because you kept secrets
in your suitcase
during work trips.
And I wanted to know
what you kept in there.
So I listened
behind closed doors.

I would graze my hands
over your face;
prickly and the color
of pumpkins.
And I longed for you
to stay home this time.
Why would you need
to go to work
when it rained?

Because you took the chair
we used to sit on
when we played
with cow puppets.

I still have one.

Because you were my dad,
and I was your first child.

You showed up late
to your mother's funeral.
All because my stepmother
was too busy
mourning the loss
of her iced coffee.

That's not the father
that I used to try and lock
in my playhouse.

Because you never
called me back
when i apologized
for asking too much.

Because you
left
lied
cheated
manipulated
and lost your daughter.

But still
I can't
bring myself
to say
it was your fault.

Maybe it was your brain tumor
slowly ******* away
at your morality.
Maybe it was my
inability to cope
with catastrophe
as a child.
Maybe it
was too much
to be caught
in a place
you never wanted to be in.

Or maybe it's just life.

I find myself
back in 6th grade
with a boy
i liked.
my heart
would pound
at recess
when he
yelled "sup?"
across
the
football
field.
Now i sit
with a boy
that i like &
i wonder how
i came here
and found
him sitting
on a couch
with fluttering
eyes.
A kiss?
I take it back.
No, do it again.
place your desires
on my lips
and taste
the bittersweet
lust
and break away
from the
fear, the norms.
There is no awkward here;
perish its existence.
There is only us.

Stuck
in a never ending cycle
of being
dropped
on my ***
each and every time
the ride ends

Picked up and
dropped
smashed
left
abandoned
and lost

It is time
for me to end
the cycle
to save myself from the
pain
torture
heartache

unable to breath
without the thought of you
yet unable to move the blood
through the pathways of my veins
with you here

all I can think
is about the next time
the ride will end
and she will be standing
blonde and beautiful
at the ticket line
holding your hand.

I will be left
in the dust
dropped
from the ferris wheel
And I have used all my tickets.

Me:

Cruising down the left lane
Grey skies, and makeup smudged from the night before
A night of confusion, lost with no direction
Until now, on the highway
I know exactly where I am going

Street signs are dusted with flakes of snow
I envision the night before
Arms around my waist
Is that where they are supposed to be?
A kind of unwanted taste; is this the right spice?

Trapped in my mind I don't notice the lights
Flash, double flash, and then flashing blue
A state trooper, official and firm
Belching his words which then suicide on the pavement
Screaming like an inner child, yelling like a large man

My brain gets trapped mid-belch
Like his words have pinned me down; they are boulders
And my mind rushes back to years ago
My stepfather marching, screaming, pulling
And my head hits the cabinet

I'm awake, a ticket in hand drenched with tears
Before I can say a word, I look in my mirrors and he is gone
Click, shift, back in drive; back in my mind
As I venture home, sobbing, cursing
Screaming to the music as loud as a want; nobody can hear a thing.

Him:

And to this day I can only see her face in my mirror
I could not stand to see her suffer
It was a bug, she said; an insect in her mind
fighting with the neurons and itching for control
And I will never forget the day the insect won.

I could have been there, I could have stopped it.
All of those close calls, all of those sleepless nights
All of those trips to therapists
And I should have seen it coming.
I never knew she would really jump.

Drivers today, they are imbeciles
Left lane dwellers, I've had enough
**** the people, the emotions, the petty thoughts
**** the ignorant college students, the young ones
So I pulled her over.

The same hair, eyes green like my daughters.
She hated me, she despised me, I had done it again.
My words were like *****, up and out
Hasty and volatile; but I emotionless
And I'm off again down the dusty road.

You have played softball for years
You know the rules
You only get three strikes
4 strikes?
What a generous umpire

Take a seat in the dugout
You've struck out
There is no doubt

Batter up?