daddy. i know i no longer call you this way.
there are some nights where i catch myself thinking about your wounds.
your hurting heart.
i am sorry i couldnt be the daughter you kept thinking about when you had your twenty years.
but you are not the father i kept thinking about when i had five.
father. i waited for hours as a child.
now i wait years.
i still think you will show up.
because when you call me after school
there are no more excuses for me to say.
when the phone is on the table
the only thing my eyes can do is to make myself a living river.
my feet pressed to the ground
against my will i start to drown
not in water but in my words not said
and your eyes beautifully brown.