I get letters from my father 140 characters at a time
his messages engraved into a wall lost in my time line
notifications my only indication he is, in fact still alive
who could say if this pretense of a prolonged relationship
is any more stable than the post apocalyptic world in which i once lived
where heart beats were time bombs and every breath was a sin
these days our words are coated in their limitations
the awful taste of stale air and awkward interactions lies heavy between us
Often I find myself second guessing my halfhearted replies
Try as I might to find the best lukewarm way to not seem too disinclined
while the dark corners of my mind cry with a will to make him feel hell
a need for some peace after a life time of ill will
my father writes me letters 140 characters at a time
the softness of his voice as if he wishes to be forgiven for his past crimes
it makes me question these 18 years and if he ever really did try tried