when my birthfather messages.
the dread that he'll ask me to see him

when I tell him of my divorce
and he asks no questions
and offers
no condolences.
when I try to tell details
and he talks over me
             tells me
best to not speak ill of the past,
there's no reason.
when I must pay a stranger
to listen like he should
               like he didn't
all these years,
when the words were not something
he wanted to hear
or maybe
he's scared of my tears.
the ones he told me
solve nothing
while offering
           no solutions
           no protections
           no affection
unless he found it fit
between the cracks of his moods
within the space of his closet.

because he likes to keep peace
I must not trod upon it.