fathering.

Letting go was the best way I could love myself when I couldn't string the perfect words. There was no explanation I could've provided for my choices; I left you with nothing to cling to except maybe confusion. It simply didn't serve us any longer to hold on so tight. I trusted in anything bigger- in fate. I never stopped loving you. Your longer days and dark nights taught me patience. And I could get through more nights without worrying about you so much, but, still, putting myself first felt new, but . . . good. Better than before. Attending to matters of the heart in perfect solitude.

You preached Godliness was next to cleanliness. The bookshelves were always immaculate. The vacuum lines in the carpet all ran the same direction. The lawn kept low, the water still running into a pool always clean and empty. Even the leaves that fell from trees were a nuisance to your vision. You called them ugly and distracting- these colors of clutter to your black and white world. I loved them, despite you. I took a little more time to let them crunch beneath my feet. I took in the forgotten things with delicate care. I followed in your footsteps, soothing the voids you wouldn't look back for. I carried sand to the beaches where the water ran to greet me. I saw the beauty in the broken things; I found the beauty that made them whole.

We were the same page, written into two different books, comedic horror stories and brutal romance. There was something too full, staring back at my reflection, crossed identities and brittle egos. We were so close to reconciliation; I found myself not a second too late. I loved you beyond the shadows, even after all the doubt. We were nothing more than scared children who had inherited the traumas of houses without home. You hadn't seen my sufferings play out; everything you didn't understand was an act, contorting love into all the bitter things. We loved in bad taste. There was more to life than collectibles and hand-me-down accolades.

What lay beneath the beautiful, mattered. I was molded from the unattended chaos. We took in the pain, and housed the families with grace, and small grumble. What ever brought you joy to do besides shuffling the ugly things to the background? Why did you honor the illusions more than the principles? I wrestled with the love that didn't look like mine, and all its distractions. I couldn't keep up with back-breaking compromises. After all, how real could the compromise be if it only left one lacking? Misery needed the company I refused to keep- all its fear and skepticism, nothing nice to utter without harsh criticisms. I stopped allowing you to weigh so heavily in me- from you, but not of you. My spirit led me back to the water; there I could witness freedom flowing in its appointed place. I needed more of that feeling- that peace and some fresh perspective in the arms to which I belonged. The blame game unveiled both synchronicities and intentions. The silence weighed- she could beckon demons from the crevices unattended and confessors to their wit's end.

"Do not cling to me." I heard it in the short cries. We sought company we couldn't stand. I had every intention of being better; I had nothing to prove in competition. It was as if you pushed me away, in hopes I would learn to fly alone, without wings or direction. My God found me on the ground and dusted me. My spirit extended forgiveness, I didn't think myself worthy of. They told me I was worth more than a damn and a stroke of luck- I was somebody, and more than half of you. I was twice as better, and more than enough.