To My Father

You missed out on the making of an amazing woman
A deep thinker and relentless fighter
A tenacious lover and a damn good writer
You missed out on every tear, every laugh, every scream, and every “I love you” that made her who she is
And who she’s going to be
You missed out on every word of advice that she gave to everyone that she cared about that could’ve done you some good
You’re missing out on witnessing the circus show that is her mind that’ll put you in awe
You’re not getting to see the unique smile that’s only brought out when she’s looking love right in the eye
And missing out on the terrifying look of fear that she gets when she thinks that she’s slipping back into her old self, even though the people who truly know her know that she’s being silly because that is just not possible
And I don’t think you’d be one of those people in disbelief
You don’t get to witness her rants or motivational speeches or morning groggy discussions or late night epiphanies
You didn’t get to read the poetry that makes her feel more like a human being
Or witness the things that she creates that seem mediocre to her but are more beautiful than she’ll ever realize
You walk the same earth and know her name and where she lives and see her sometimes but you have no idea who she is
You missed out on me.



Stock Pile (Unfinished)

I am a stock pile of music from my past
And facts that have no use to people just like to get from A to B

Without stopping at any sight to see

I live with a broken record of phrases in voices that I may never hear again

And seeing images of memories that shouldn’t be there slipped cleverly and sloppily in between the reel of film that is what’s in front of me