Skip to main content

A Teenager to her Father

 I wish I could go back.

Back to when I was falling asleep on you at church, with you gently playing with my hair.
Drifting in and out as the preacher's words float around my head.

I wish we were back there.
Back to the innocence and simplicity of life.
Back to when I was your pure perfect angel...unable to cause harm.

I wish we didn't have to fight.
About curfew and boys.
About right and wrong.

I wish we weren't so similar.
Stubborn and persistent.
Caring and opinionated.

I wish we weren't so different.
"Good versus Bad"
My hatred for confrontation, and your love of expression.

I wish you were my best friend.
Calling you when I'm caught.
Asking you for advice and homework help.

I wish I didn't screw up.
Or let you down over and over again.
I wish I hadn't bruised and broken your image of me.

I wish you still looked at me with hope.
I wish the disappointment would leave your eyes.
I wish I still made you smile,
and never made you cry
I wish you still gave prayers of gratitude for a daughter like me,
instead of asking God what you did wrong.
I wish you didn't feel shame for my actions,
and still felt proud of me
I wish you didn't blame yourself for my destruction...

I wish I could make things right again, just go back to those Sunday mornings in church...but instead I sit here, writing this, wondering how in the world it has come to this. How I let you down so many times that the hope has drained from your eyes, how I've let us drift so far, and how IVE messed up so badly that YOU feel like the failure. 

I wish that when I looked into your eyes I still felt like I could achieve anything, and that no matter what, your love for me was unbreakable. And I wish so badly that in your eyes I was still your flawless miraculous princess.

I'm so sorry dad..



Written October 13, 2011 as a senior in high school

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Orange Reminder

12/25/09 The orange ring lays against fragile skin. A constant reminder of the pain and sorrow...also a memory of endurance and gain. 30 beads each with different meaning..circles the wrist while never ending. The hurt and denial expressed with each glance, anxiety and guilt overwhelm when its gone. without those orange beads meaning is lost, and emptiness fills.
Post a Comment
Read more

A Pair of Spray Painted Feet

We met through Steve and Peter. From the very beginning I knew I loved him. I knew he was going to be my best friend. The first time I cried in front of him sealed the deal. He knew almost everything about me. He knew my scars, my flaws, my triumphs, he knew me better than I let most. Summer 2013 was an unforgettable one. Not necessarily in a cheerful sort of way, but better than I always remember.He got me through that summer, as well as another. He stood by me while I constantly slipped on and off the curb. Supporting me, yet warning me about the swallowing pits through which I was treading. Spring 2014. You're gone and I feel regret. I wasn't the friend you were to me the past 4 months and I should have been by your side shining the light for your way. Kyle- Thank you for everything you've helped me be. For everything you've carried me through. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you this past semester, I regret every second. You are such an incredible person a...
Post a Comment
Read more

Prompt: The Ghost of You

I see in you the pain she holds. The unbearable thought of not being what we need. Could I even recognize you. If you appeared as an outline of us. As a ghost in my dreams. Who you used to be, traces the outlines of your eyes. Fades into therapy sessions on the past. The ghost of you when you're stressed and overwhelmed. Your emotions taking hold. Ghost of you shoved deep. Until your stomach aches and your head pounds. The ghost of you hides in books and sleep. I feel like I carry the wounds of her with me but am not sure how to heal. I can feel her shadow when you hug me, an apology lingering on the too long of squeeze. Why can’t I seem to let go, of the ghost of you.
Post a Comment
Read more