When the music's off and the room gets empty

Father.

Do not look at me like that.

Like you know who and what I am.

Because you weren't around to impact that—
not in the way of football games, barbeques, and dances, at least.

You are not my father.

You are a man I wanted to know.

You are a man I knew to never marry a man alike.

You are the man who made my poems.

You are the reason I hold a razor to my flesh.

Marks of a promise broken,
of a love never given,
of claw marks down a heart as I never let it go.

You were not a blessing;
you were a curse.

A curse to follow me around as I live.

You breathe down my neck everywhere I go.

I will never escape.

The color of dark hair, round eyes, thin eyebrows—
they stare at me in the mirror.

A reflection of you.

Of a love I was made from but never shown.

I am sorry for being bitter.

And I am sorry for not liking your touch,
because of the times it hurt me.

I'm sorry you wanted a daughter
who was blind and deaf to the lies poured into my soul.

More.

Less.

More.

Try again.

You wanted another family,
and I am sorry I will not live in it.

I'm sorry I will not leave the life you did—
the bruises, the arguments, the drinking.

I will never lose it.

It is written in my thighs and mind,
in my very blood,
in the reflection that looks back at me.

Teasing.

Taunting.

A reflection of you.

You are not my father.

You are a seed I came from.

A love never given when I needed it.

I saw what happened behind the walls.

They're thin, you know?

Your silence was enough to shatter me.

-August

xoxo, gossip girl