A Lost Identity

Dear Unidentified Man,

Do you miss me? Is the first thing that comes to mind when someone mentions your name. The second thought that comes to mind is, if you were to be missing me, it must not be stronger than the absence of poison sensation you drown upon your lips in the shadows. The absence of emotion in your heart I learned is now swollen with, “Liquid courage,” they call it, but what courage did it give you? Or was it the courage to run away from everything that it gave you?

The third thought that comes to mind when I hear of you is, how was it so easy? Getting up, and walking out, that is. Didn’t your boots feel heavy with every step you took towards the door, on the floor I first learned to crawl on? Or did the poison make its way into the cracks in your soul and seal it up harder than the floor beneath your feet?  

The next thought the comes to mind, during your eight year absence is, how did I ever learn what a Father figure was supposed to be like? Because I know what it is not, I learned that the hard way. I learned that it was not secrets kept from Mom, it was not the coldness that left from inside me when my legs were pried open by a “Father figure,” who was “only bonding” with me. I was positive it was not the steel that molded my heart the day I was labeled a “liar”. But do not worry, Unidentified Man, I learned one way or another.

The last thought that circles the madness inside of me, is “Why was I never enough?”. When you walked back into my life, just as easy as you walked out, I asked you by your name, with one simple word and a pointer finger to your dirty boots from the long road traveled. “Matt,” is all I had spoke before I had swung the door wide open again, but that was not enough either. It always felt like a competition, some sick twisted game to prove who was more valued. And when you did not wipe your feet because you had not planned a long stay, I realized I would never be the winner of the game. It would always win over me,

When I saw I would never win, I learned I never really had a chance to get to know you, Unidentified Man. And with age, I knew it was never me who was not enough, it was always the alcohol, that is why you needed so much, perhaps. You could not have room for the both of us, I can see. But, after all, you always said she was there for you when others were not, so who am I to stop that kind of friendship?

Although we are strangers that lie on opposites sides of the worlds, I know a part of you Unidentified Man, after all, half of you is half of me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

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