I wake up on a yoga mat
In what is now just My
empty room.

All the clutter That made this house
lived in.
Tucked
in the three old
Sock and underwear drawers
That used to be:
Hers.

The family photographs
half the nerdy posters
books,
Magic the Gathering cards,
Burgled by some addict named time.

I look out at what I now call
"The guest bedroom".
The only evidence of her
An empty dresser
covered in Princess stickers.

At work
Customers ask:
How are you doing?
"I'm awesome! how are you?"
How are you doing?
"I'm wonderful! what brings you to freeport?"
How are you doing?
"I'm fantastic, peak or dark roast?"

How's your daughter?
"Step-daughter."
That's all I'm allowed to tell you
My boss said I'm scaring off customers By
over-sharing
So he wrote me a script.

I would love to tell you
I don't know how she's doing
And it's killing me.

Her mother left me,
We were both fifteen at the time so
My mother, Rightfully cautious
of her overly passionate puppylove eyed son
Didn't let me adopt

So I don't get to see her anymore.

Her mother was a fire who never drank enough rain
And that little girl
Will burn without my clouds.

I am playground math lessons
In space of mindless television
I am baking a cake together Instead of
"You won't eat till you listen".
I am the voice behind every barbie doll
And dinosuar that ever fell in love.

when you ask me how she's doing
All I can think about is how
I earned that
first "I love
you,
dada."

How I made her laugh
more times than her Mother made her
Cry.
How I tucked her in at night
and she made me read her
"Oh The Places You'll Go",
Over
and Over
and Over.
Screaming
when I said she'd go
On through the hakken kraks howl,
and Giggling
when I said she'd move
Mountains.
I raised her for three years.

But because I walked in on my daughter
Locked in "The guest bedroom"
banging on the Oak door
Screaming "DA DAAAA!"
While her mother forgets about us
On the other side of a keyhole.

I have to waste at this register
Handing you a precious cup of coffee
every precious cup of coffee
another abuse I can't protect her from.

"How is your daughter?"
"Step Daugher"
"How are you doing?"
"I'm awesome."
"How is your daugher?"
"Step daughter."
"how are you doing? Step daughter"
"Tell me how you're doing, Step Daughter."
"Please, Tell me you're safe."
"Tell me you're safe."
"Tell me you're safe."

I had a dream I killed you.
Threw knives at your fat chest,
held you under the bath
water when you were a baby.

Pinched your nose and covered
your mouth with a pillow,
gave you a razor and made you
do it yourself.

I woke up cold and strangely calm.
I woke up tired of both of us.
And under the yellowed, motheaten blankets,
I realized:

it was what we’d both always wanted.