sometimes I think my dad knows.
sees the lifelessness in my eyes,
sees the pain inside of me.

but how do I ask?

"daddy, do you see me?"

he'd probably say something like
"sure, possum, I see you.
you're beautiful and smarter than most people I know, even adults."

wrong.

he'd never understand the depth of the question.
too naive, too oblivious.
not like me at all.
so I wait.
one day he'll bring it up.
one day, I'll deny it again.
but this time,
to my own blood.

if i could paint a picture
of how much i regret the way things ended
it would be a sad assemblage
of pastel blues and greys and blacks
stained with flecks of golden yellow
not unlike the thunderheads currently taking up residence in my head.

If i could write you a letter
it would be yet another failed attempt
at describing how much my very soul aches
for something as simple as your presence.

if i could hold your hand
the nearby flowers would bloom
and the sun would glow green with envy.

if i could kiss your lips
i would certainly lose my mind
and not want to be found ever again.

if i could call out your name
i would hope that the winds would show me pity
and carry my voice to your ears.

if i were to sing a song
it would be a beautiful ballad
every measure dedicated to another flawless part of you.

if i could build a bridge
that spanned across time
it would lead me back to that wednesday in august
in your arms
slipping into slumber to the rhythm
of the raindrops tapping upon the windowpane.

if i could tell a story
it would be of the way the sun chases the moon across the sky;
to urge everyone everywhere to cherish those close to them.

if i could make myself stronger
i would squeeze the earth until
the number of miles between you and i
dwindled down to zero.

if i could look into a mirror
i would be puzzled by what i would see
and find it hard to recognize
the face staring back at me.

if i could give you my heart
i would in an instant.
in the time it takes for my heart to beat its last iambic
i would rip open true ribs one through five
and offer my crimson ***** to you.

if i could have met you any other way
under different circumstances
in a different time
under a different sun
maybe this would have ended differently
or not ended at all.

I've kissed him in a thousand dreams
And missed him for eight hundred weeks
Stayed up when I should be asleep
Wondering if he thinks of me
I know I shouldn't care this much
But I can't seem to shake this crush
I'm upside down and out of touch
He'll never notice, never does.