oak oasis
When people ask me my last name, I use my mother's.
If someone were to ask me how many parents I have, I would say one.
When someone asks me which parent I love most, it is always my mother.
"I hate my father."
I hate the man who left me when I needed him.
I hate the man who hurt my mother.
I hate the man with a new family.
And I hate the man who raised a fist to a child.
But as the words leave my mouth,
the bitter aftertaste makes me nauseous.
I think of the little girl who went down to the lake and refused to hold the fish he caught.
I think of the little girl who clung to his leg as he walked through the house.
I think of the little girl who thought her daddy was her world.
I think of the man who eats dinner every night alone.
I think of the man who loves a girl he’s never known.
I think of the man who never knew his father.
I think of the man I pray never to marry like.
And I wonder, how did I become so bitter?
Was it somewhere along the car rides between houses?
At a new girlfriend's house?
Perhaps in the tears that stained my face.
Maybe it was the friends we made along the way.
You know, I still crave his touch—
just between me and you.
I crave his arms wrapped around me,
his voice saying, "I love you," in a way I wish I had memorized.
You cannot tell anybody,
but I think it’s my fault.
I think I’ve grown resentful of a man who wants to know me.
I think I’m selfish,
and I know I’m too much.
I think I’m the reason we’ve grown apart.
I speak of a father I needed, but what of the daughter he needed?
(too long, check comments for the rest!)
glass tangle
stable ivy
it highlights perfectly the contast between the simultaneous love and hate, and the "fight" these two have in yourself. Its wanna be loved but i hate him. Also the stanza with the question you ask yourself makes it look like there's a deep sadness attached to it, as he might not even know your real self. Girl i feel this poem😭
uneven delta
oblique coyote