Sta.sh
From There to Here.
by ~sweet-sangriaHow do I get from there to here?
My father.
If it weren't for my father I would not sleep and wake up crying, impossible to breathe without dread, without drowning in imploding poems and anxious beds that damage the skin.
How do I get from there to here?
My father.
If it weren't for my father hate would not be the walls of my house, small and claustrophobic, leaking in storms, further holding my thoughts as neurotic flashes of bad polaroid. We would all have dinner and not cancer, with conversations that does not involve a broken car and not having enough of anything, and swallowing cold and little food would not be a struggle. I could have had a room to swear without locking everybody else out.
How do I get from there to here?
My father.
If it weren't for my father who inherited these pleading eyes to me I would have been beautiful. I would not have lost my face in the sea of strangers that think I am destroying myself from inside out, each scar more deserving than the last. My organs would not ache for normalcy because I should've had it without having to be hungry for something even remotely close to being a whole person.
How do I get from there to here?
My father.
If it weren't for my father you could have fallen in love with me with dignity and not against your better judgment, and we could melt into each other until everything turns soft and blurry like a watercolor painting. Though it wouldn't be us if it weren't bloodstains and wild burning eyes. But don't we long for a dreamscape of laughter sheathed in pastel morphine, like limbs journeying bedward? I could have traveled to you, you could have had sated exhales and kinder words.
How do I get from there to here?
My father.
If it weren't for my father I would not write mutely but live, beaming in sudden fits of crystalline expression with no alternative story, lovely and not salt-crusted. I would not keep losing my hair in depression. I wouldn't have been wrong all the time, saying too much or too little, standing in a bridge where the only options are yes or no and nothing else. Not even jumping off because god forbid I have the courage to do so.
How do I get from there to here?
My father, who told me disasters happen more at night.
My father.
My father.
My father.
My father.
