I never forgave my dad.
for leaving.
I waited.
I waited for that one day
he would show back up,
knocking on the black
Victorian door with the golden sun.
On the middle house on the middle block.
All peace was lost,
In the small victorian home.

My heart broke in the living room.
They way it broke was
deadlier than any gun could ever be.
you're just like a bullet,
tearing and destroying my mind.
I couldn't help but pull the trigger,
and now you're making me bleed.
It's a new kind of pain.
just like a bullet, you're lodged in my brain.
it’s like how you were my favorite book
and now my pages are ripped out
to write your own novel.
The death didn’t hurt the most
it’s the post trauma that follows it
it’s waking up and looking for you,
and you're gone.
It’s like starting life over again,
but you don’t know where to begin.