I could've just laid down if
I wanted to

ignoring the bells that echoes
inside my head

Let the earth swallow me
among withered leaves that decay
beside me

Let the world dry out
as if all lamented things
belong to me

I could act as if
my heart is an icy winter water,
never to beat, never to warm at all

Granite skies would drift above me,
haunting me in my night and
summer days

But in the thunder that frightens me
A swift lightning would pass me by,
a crack of gold in my darkest night

The flood crashing through doors,
through all the breathe that I've lost
I would learn to hold every air that I touch

All the celestial mass throbbing in my chest
The distant rumble of supernovas
that tears me apart,
and black sunshine that shines on my face

Even if midnight splatters beneath my eyes,
with all the stars that glimmer
that badly wants to fall

Even if half of my shadow is blown to nether
I would suffer everyday, and in my pain
I knew I could feel

I would die everyday, with all lamented things
and in all my deaths

I have learned to live

Walking through the fabled night
of ancient skies and gray sidewalks
Stepping into the world
of hot humid June

When metals towered over the sky,
Like match sticks lined up above stones
the luminescent streets blazed
into the night

Those glasses that shimmered
bright lights and yellow fireworks,
Falling with gravity,
relishing in sweet air and downfall

The wind from a distant land
that caressed the trees,
their shadows dancing
on the streets

I saw you there in broad shadows
when I marched amidst silence
I have lost my path
to the night that has fallen

But in your eternal flames, I stood
knowing that I’m still here

My tongue unfurls,
knotted and bruised,
tumbling down my knees.
A sob, a thick glob of sound,
catches on my teeth,
a pearl without an oyster,
a stone in my throat.
My chest beats hard,
a frantic, thudding rhythm,
like a cat trapped in a bag,
desperate for air, for light,
a way out of this cage
of words I refuse to utter.
And the anxiety screams,
a high-pitched shriek in my ears,
as it scrambles and claws,
demanding attention,
pushing words out of me
that I never meant to say.

A chaotic flood of feeling,
a messy, unfiltered truth.
I watch your face,
a mirror of my fears,
and I know I've done it again—
said too much.
Fast, loud, honest,
and ruined.

Too much. Too soon.

The silence that follows
is the loudest sound I've ever heard.

See, here's the thing about love. Its this quiet ache that settles in your bones. Not a sharp pain, more like the constant hum of a refrigerator you can't quite tune out. And it's this wanting, this deep-down, kid-sized wanting that just yearns to be loved back, that I've learned to bury deep down.

I've always pictured it, you know? The whole daddy's girl thing. The scraped knees getting kissed better, the bad drawings stuck proudly on the fridge, the late-night talks about nothing and everything feeling like the most important thing in the world. That hand, big and calloused, swallowing mine whole, a silent promise to always care.
But the mirror, man, that **** mirror. It throws back this face, this map of features that isn't mine, not truly. It's hers. The blueprint of the woman who carved out a hollow space in his chest, a space I can't fill, no matter how hard I try.
I am a walking memory of his regrets, and I've always lived in the shadow of her mistakes.

So every time I reach, every time I lean in, hoping for that easy warmth, that unguarded smile, there's this flicker. A shadow crossing his eyes. It's not anger, not exactly. More like a reflex, a phantom limb twitching with remembered hurt.
And I get it, I do. Intellectually, at least. I’m a walking, breathing trigger. A constant rewind to a story you’d rather leave unspooled.
But this heart, this stupid, hopeful heart of mine? It doesn’t get it. It just feels the distance. The abuse that felt a little too disproportionate. The punishments that felt a little too severe. The acting out, just so you'd look at me. The careful words. The hands that stay just out of reach.

There are no big blow-ups anymore Dad, no dramatic scenes. Just this quiet, persistent absence. This knowing that I’ll always be a reminder, a living photograph of your biggest regret.
And the wanting? It just keeps humming. A low, steady note in the soundtrack of my life. A daddy’s girl in a world where that role was never cast for me. A face in the mirror, a ghost in your gaze. That’s the truth I have to live with I suppose. Yet still, even though it hurts, I still yearn for you to love me. To want to hold me. I miss what I never had.

The years drifted by, a slow steady current.
A feeling, a hum beneath the surface,
always just out of reach.
Like a half-remembered song,
a color you almost saw.
Waiting for a moment, a shoe drop, something just on the tip of your tongue.
Then the sterile chill, the bright lights.
A focused tension.
Drowzy, losing blood,
Panicking.
The fear of the waiting, waiting for that
Moment.
The moment you've spent your whole life waiting for.
And then, a sound.
A raw, insistent cry.
Suddenly, the shape of the waiting
snapping into sharp relief.
Tears rolling down your face,
Muscles slumping.
This small, furious sound.
The missing piece, finally found.

Your Son's first cry.

The ghost of your voice, a whiskey-soaked whisper,
haunts the empty spaces between my ribs.
Your lingering presence aches like a ****** bruise.
Even in a crowded room,
your shadow dances on the periphery of my vision.
My heart, a stubborn compass,
always points towards you,
a magnetic north that leads me astray.
I build walls of indifference,
plant gardens of new affections,
but the roots of our entanglement
run deeper than any cultivated soil.
You're invasive,
Killing the light, and any hope of freedom
From your smile.
You are the siren song,
the shipwreck I yearn to return to.
The familiar ache of your absence
feels more comforting than the tentative warmth of new beginnings.
I have thought it through.
And the conclusion is a bitter surrender.
This is my fate,
to orbit your gravity,
a satellite forever lost in your orbit.
You are a toxic cycle I surrender myself to.
Unwillingness has never felt so relieving.