Most often, I ache for the kind of Daddy

Whose calloused fingers tunnel into my contused flesh

And bore holes into my defiant soul

Grasping for hidden veins of golden sovereignty

And yanking them out like ripcords

/

I always want to be tamed

/

But tonight, I want a different kind of Daddy

The Daddy who would kiss away my tears

And hold me in arms as warm and cosy as the womb

The Daddy who would stroke my hair with tender fingertips

The kind reserved for fledgling birds, or Fabergé eggs

/

My heart is broken that I cannot be who you need

/

Juliet Capulet said “parting is such sweet sorrow”

Daddy, I know that, one day, this sorrowful wound will give way

To a shiny pink sheath of new skin

And we will embrace one another

And exchange unspoken words

/

But when will that day come? You know I have no patience

/

What shape will we take?

How many seasons will have changed

Between this hurt, and that joy?

Daddy, I cannot stomach the idea of greeting you as an acquaintance

When I love you with the ferocity of a thousand burning suns

/

I miss you, Daddy, and I always will

/

Daddy, I want you to know it might seem like I’m sad

But these words I write are a celebration

Of the agony of my heart being cleaved from my chest—

Isn’t it exquisite

To hurt so deeply, because you loved so deeply?

/

I’m the luckiest girl in the world to feel this pain