A beautiful collaboration
I remember the way my father hesitated
before walking out the front door,
holding a plastic money bag containing
I was 10 but I knew what it meant.
I donāt remember my parents being in love
but there are the wedding photos.
My father arriving on his motor bike,
sunglasses on. His lean figure, his smile,
his hairline all screaming youth.
fortress in her wedding dress.
Smiling beside her sisters and best friend,
smiling next to the man sheāll come to resent.
I donāt remember my parents being in love
but thereās the video tape of my first birthday.
My mother licks the icing off my fingers and
my father tries to make me clap.
They both blow out the candles for me.
I do remember the fighting, the name calling,
the accusations, the emails, the phone calls,
the using us as pieces in your chess game,
the not talking, the blaming, the denying,
the refusals to be in the same room.
I can see the frost leave my mothers lips
every time she speaks his name.
I can see the part of my fatherās heart
completely frozen over in his chest.
I never knew love could turn so cold.
20 years later and here I am:
a combination of a fathers stubborn nature
and a mothers battle for self acceptance.
A fathers love affair with words
and a mothers patience and cautiousness,
a moral compass testament to a beautiful collaboration.
Thereās no love here anymore
Thereās no love here anymore
but look what it created.
- Cassie Lewis (via daydreamsandheartbeats)
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andulkaphoto
