When I look at my father,
I see a man who was kicked so hard by life
that emotion became a sign of weakness.
I see a man who chokes on the word "love".
I see a man who has never heard a single "thank you"
even though he lives his life for others.
His hands are calloused from years of hard work.
I've never thanked him for sacrifice.
He is made of steel and the strongest of oak
and yet I, his daughter, am made from too much water and glass.
I break too easily. Give in too much.
And yet for a second,
I have broken him.
He becomes all puddle and sobs.
All teary-eyed and cracked voice.
For once, I am out of words.
There is only silence.
There is no "I'm sorry".
He does not look at me again.