a letter to my father

what is it like to be

oblivious to the truth

that you broke me?

this thing, this dented

shell,

this rusted relic of

a torn youth,

ragged and deformed –

this thing that no longer trusts

this thing that no longer lets them in

for fear

of being broadsided,

of being torn again.

this hopeless husk of

my former self,

knowing that you will never

understand what you did to me.

this tear stained heart,

dropping every other beat,

afraid you will find that

it still lives.

I have hated you with more emotion

than I have ever shown any other

living thing.

and I am tired,

weak from the anger –

from the desolate truths

that have bound me.

spent from the years

of concentration on a hate

that was exclusive to you.

and now I am nothing more than

the rubble of a building fallen,

scattered, ruptured, and rebuilding.

what you left behind strives,

continues on, moves forward,

and is getting stronger

from finally giving up on

the hope that you will ever

understand.

the only thing I can give you is my

silence, my protest for what

you have done.

without my noise, maybe you will

drown on it too, maybe you have

been drowning on it all along –

it doesn’t matter for my silence is

whole, complete, and captivating.

my troubles are but vague outlines

in the smoke.

I am healing.

I am becoming me again.

I have no hate.

there is no revenge here,

no hard feelings,

and I don’t need you anymore.