I refuse to speak with my father,
And with any of my relatives
With a relativity to him.
When I came of age
I changed
My number of contact
and refused to give it to him.
Today I have daddy envy.
Jealous and upset
That I lack a patriarchal figure.
I cried in my bed
Rubbed my raw and reddened eyes.
I dreamt last night
Of holding my fathers hand
While I watched a frightening film.
He hates scary movies,
But I dreamt he watched it anyway
Just to be there for me.
It does not seem
Like very much,
No big deal at all.
But it is far more
Than I ever got from him
While I was awake.
I want to give him a call.
I shall not though.
I am well aware of how it would end,
Him calling me names,
Shoving into my face all the ways and Multiple times that I have disappointed him
More tears would dampen my pillows.
It would become nothing more than a Reminder of why I ceased all contact.
