Can we talk?
I mean, since you’re dead and all,
and not really dangerous
and I get to make up your answers.
So, let’s talk.
I think of you,
when I think of you,
smiling.
Funny, that.
You never did much.
The good Lord knows
you were hardly fun.
Your smile was just that bright.
You were tall.
Six foot, five, I think.
Very dark hair.
Very blue eyes.
I still like that combination.
Little girls just love their daddy.
Daddy, what do remember of me?
Do you know I loved cats,
how I never whistled,
knew all the words to all the hymns,
dreamed of traveling the world?
I get sick to my stomach
when I think of the
you and I that weren’t.
We could have taken apart any subject
and fitted it into whatever shape we chose.
There were firesides waiting for us,
long evenings in the summer night air.
You never made the date.
Why was beer more fun than me?
Did you dance with those women,
sing to them like Jim Reeves?
Did you ever wake up hung over
and wish you had the guts to stop?
What were you thinking?
Did it get easier to disappoint me?
Or did it haunt you?
Do you remember before,
when Sherry was little,
and you were nice?
That’s how she says it.
“Daddy was nice then.”
I never knew you that way.
I wish I had been important to you.
You will be proud to know
you still have an effect on me.
The empty spaces in me were
never filled.
I have gotten used to them.
They itch sometimes now, hardly hurt,
phantom pain for the missing daddy spot.
That’s it for now.
I have talked myself blue in the soul.
Let’s wait a while for next time, ok?
It takes a lot out of me,
these little chats.
It always surprises me
just how you can still make me cry.
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5 comments:
(((Hugs)))
Few words to paint an intimate and painful picture. Evocative and beautiful yet sad.
Thank you for sharing this with us.
ScoG Blog
I always read this first; before your other blog - very deep.
This is painful- even more so because the first stanza is quite funny!
If you come visit my blog, you may want to read Trailer Park Comfort (I think we may have a little in common?). . .
all the best and hello.
I am adding your feed, I do not want to miss a word. You evoke emotion.
(((C))),
I'm here via Poetry Thurs. When I saw your tags that are in common with mine, like "PTSD," I knew I'd read and return to read more.
Emotion like this needs to be set free. Oh, how I wish I didn't find someone else, though. I wish our numbers were down, not up.
I'm adding you to my feed.
(I understand the extreme difficulty in creating a two-way dialogue on this topic. I haven't been able to do it, either.) In fact, I have no current poem up, but I am visiting blogs.
(I write on a variety of topics. If you're interested in a recovery poem, I posted this one several months ago: http://shadowsinthemoonlight.typepad.com/shadows_in_the_moonlight/2006/01/dirty_laundry.html
(If it didn't show up as a link in the comment, you can cut and paste it into your brower or visit my blog and click on the poetry category until you find "Dirty Laundry.")
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