Apr 2018
My father never laid his hand on me....
Not with a slap on the face, and not with a pat on the back.
My father doesn’t yell at me. In fact, the only time in which I get to hear his voice is when we have small talk every couple of days.
My father never broke my heart. I do not think he is aware that we are anatomally wired to have hearts. Perhaps, his liver pumps his blood and perhaps, he thinks my kindney pumps my blood.
I saw my father’s blood on the bathroom tile after him coughing in there for two hours straight. I pretended I saw nothing. I wonder if he too pretends he doesn’t see me bleeding myself to sleep every night.
Not with a slap on the face, and not with a pat on the back.
My father doesn’t yell at me. In fact, the only time in which I get to hear his voice is when we have small talk every couple of days.
My father never broke my heart. I do not think he is aware that we are anatomally wired to have hearts. Perhaps, his liver pumps his blood and perhaps, he thinks my kindney pumps my blood.
I saw my father’s blood on the bathroom tile after him coughing in there for two hours straight. I pretended I saw nothing. I wonder if he too pretends he doesn’t see me bleeding myself to sleep every night.
