by Lizardin Bain

Father of mine

Eighteen years after, you pop-up in conversations –

reluctantly, in whispers and rushing past

but you are mentioned at least.

 

Memories aren’t grateful nor splendid

I blame my own tendency to focus on negative

It impresses me the most.

 

The trauma fades, as the gaping agony

Breathing doesn’t hitch and spiral into hysterics

I can voice the horror story.

 

You abandoned me and I care none for fate

You could have fought tooth and nail, come back –

However, you’ve told me you won’t.

 

I loved you, like only father’s princesses can

Whole-heartedly, eyes staring every time I saw you

It cost me peace and piece of sanity.

 

I forgive you and my ungrateful, childish self

For what occurred before and especially after

I crushed face-first into reality.

 

We will meet again on crossroads of time and eternal,

Smiling and bragging; our mortal life said and done

I’ll punch you, though, be ready.

 

But before that miraculous meeting can occur,

Accept my best wishes and undying love

I give you flowers of my youth, Father.

 

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