Daddy

4 Comments

Tags:
  • Happiness
    • xdavidabramx
    • tear the petals off of you, make you tell the truth // Hole

    Daddy

    Shattered glass fills the living room floor
    Beside the bar where you took your last drink
    I was so afraid, so frightened
    I went in my pants, and bruises faded no more
    Quickly than the last time you bruised me

    Only in the morning I can never remember
    Never truly remember what it was I was so
    God damn afraid of
    Only you
    Only your fist crashing down on my face
    Only your boot-heels stamping down on my back

    I can't believe what I've done
    Your last drink was gin
    I remember your shakes
    I remember your spasms
    But I still loved you
    I still love you!

    And if your hands, alive,
    lay across my throat
    Tonight, I won't mind
    I won't mind your boot-heels caressing my spine
    I won't mind at all, not your
    Fists correcting me and putting me in my place
    Oh daddy
    How I love you...

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    sk commented on Daddy

    05-07-2009

    This is so tragic; The love of a child is so very precious...like the love of a (good) Mother, it never ends, no matter what...strong piece. Strong person to write/live it. 10

    xdavidabramx

    05/30/2009

    Thank u! So much of my writing that I post is from my awkward growing phase last year and two years ago when I first started writing. This is probably one of the few ones that I wrote during that first year that anybody's really thought was that good. Thank u! Again!

    lightcourier commented on Daddy

    05-03-2009

    ...and the smeared phot/picture as the heading. The face of a person distorted... Fantastic. Enjoyed reading/looking! Thanks!

    lightcourier commented on Daddy

    05-03-2009

    What else could you do? Hate the part that is half yourself? Poignant and heart grippingly, terrifyingly true to life. (I identify!) Very well done david! Good work!

    peacefully commented on Daddy

    05-02-2009

    This is so heart felt and so sad and sweet at the same time. Such love, it would take a special person to still love.

    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

    Unknown Source

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