my body is beating,
the tick-tock flood
of blood rushing
then repeating,
and all I can see
are hands trying to start
their motion, but failing
and restarting
and failing
and restarting
and all I can feel
are the knocks on my ribs
as I slowly calm into my thoughts
-
my body is beating,
-
all I want is a conversation,
all I want is a conversation,
a chance to convince you
I am worth what I am
and what I need to survive.
-
keep trying
I don’t know if I’m a good father
And I guess that makes me better
because at least I keep trying
-
i’m trying to capture the air
i’m trying to capture the air
to turn it into words I want to sharebut you’re stealing all the oxygen,
so even if I could, I couldn’t speak
because your presence is drowning me
-
so much of my life
so much of my life has been spent and not earned.
i am indebted to the nights and behind on the days.
-
our history
The muscles in my face,
so used to being stuck in place
as the scowl i forgot they formed,
loosen when I think of you.
this brightness, who pulled me from the darkness,
unafraid even though I was of
what real life was and what
my life, our life, could be as
two people so naturally
becoming our history that
we look back on and say
weren’t we happy?
weren’t we real life?
weren’t we fighting
just to be together?and then one day
we’ll tell her everything
so she knows
who you and I were
before and after
we became we
-
poke-a-dotted screen
her little prints
poke-a-dot my screen,
swiped and circled and
reminding me of
her heels
swinging
over
toes
to the joy
of using
daddy’s ipad