my father, for he is the
reason why I wrote;
perhaps not entirely true
but he is the biggest reason
why I do cry.
he calls for me in his sleep
but when I call him
he tells me to not worry
I tried to love what was
already lost in addiction.
some nights I lose my self
in thoughts about how he
is and if he sees the moon
the way I do.
he called me nicknames
like boo boo, it was
the only time I actually
felt genuinely cared for.
my father, he sometimes
hugged me and it was when
he wanted something or
was utterly drunk.
I guess it meant love.
somewhere in his mind
that's what he wanted me to
believe was love.
but the purpose of this
was to say this in a matter
of relief; because we are
taught we should love those
who create us, but my blood is
thick with his love therefore,
because we are blood, it doesn't mean
I must love him. I just respect him.