Categories > Original > Poetry
My dad had clear blue eyes. I remember them looking at me through his stringy brown hair as he (badly) sung some song from the 80s. This was usually after a few glasses of wine after dinner, mind you. Thats when he seemed happiest though, when he was reminising. You could see those bright blue eyes of his light up with his smile. They were so filled with life. He seemed so damn happy. When i was a young girl, i honestly thought daddy was the one i wanted to marry. I remember being really tiny and laying ontop my daddys chest as the ocean breeze rocked us to sleep every summer. He was my bestfriend, the funniest person i knew, the smartest person i knew. daddy was mother fucking super man....
Sometimes i imagine that man still exists. it may not exist with me, but maybe with his new wife and kid. maybe hes not this fridged old man who talks to me like a stranger. or the coldhearted man who tosses his kids aside if they inconvinience him. Or maybe then i was too naive to see the liqour behind his smiles and the rage behind every fucking house bill.
Sometimes i imagine that man still exists. it may not exist with me, but maybe with his new wife and kid. maybe hes not this fridged old man who talks to me like a stranger. or the coldhearted man who tosses his kids aside if they inconvinience him. Or maybe then i was too naive to see the liqour behind his smiles and the rage behind every fucking house bill.
Sign up to rate and review this story