My father used to love me
Love me more than anything else in this world.
But I guess that love was only resigned for little girls
Not big girls.
For sick little girls
Not sick big girls
For the hurt little girls
Not hurt big girls.
I don't remember the last time my father told me he loved me without any interference; without anyone or thing making him, without me saying it first.
My father used to get me little gifts if he went somewhere.
A drink if he went to the corner store,
Ice cream after a doctors visit,
Fast food after errands,
A toy from the store,
Popsicles when I had a sore throat.
It showed that he loved me, since he would not say it.
Now he neither says nor shows it.
I dont think his unconditional love extends to adult me.
Just little girl me.
YOU ARE READING
THE H WORDS
PoetryWritten by, in the teenage years of, a not so special girl, with a not so special past, with a not so special life. Written by a girl who could never write poetry in the first place, but still did so when her emotions spilled over the edge. Writte...
