A Letter to Dad

I guess the only thing I want to know, is if you ever think about me?

do the white lines on the table remind you of a child growing taller in your absence? or the pipe on your lips, does it carry the tears on my face up with the smoke?

do the wrinkles under your eyes tell you how old I am? do you know my name?

I wonder if you wonder what your daughter is like the way I wonder about you.

do you know I have your hair and your bright blue eyes and your olive skin? would you see yourself in me?

have you tried looking for what you lost the same way I tried so hard not to care?

do you want to know what I like? do you want to know what I hate?

is there an interest in the back of your brain begging to be let out of its dungeon of fear?

do you think about how you've affected me, wondering if I fell down with the white like you did? do you wonder what pain you could've healed, instead of left?

dad, were you sad?

is that why the drugs took you away? were you sad like me? do we share the same pain?

is that something I got from you?

maybe if you stayed, we could've helped each other heal, and you could stand by my side the way you're supposed to.

I wonder if you're lonely. I wonder if you miss me. I wonder if you could possibly miss a child you never met.

maybe you can and you're in pain. maybe you can't. and I'm just giving you the benefit of a doubt you don't deserve.

you don't deserve anything from me.

so why is it that after a lifetime of not caring, that I'm almost 21 and now I miss you?

because I've never met you. and I probably never will. so why do I have to be your polar opposite?

I don't want to miss a figment of my reality. and that's all you are:

a figment of color, this odd shade of white that I don't know what to do with.

maybe in my dreams tonight, you'll come visit me and paint it out my mind.