The only time that I got afraid in my life, was the time that I asked your mom to marry me. She never said yes. How could she. What reason did she have to chain her peaceful life to a wretched like me? There I knelt. On one knee. It was at the staircase to the cinema, after the poetry show. It was raining. The floor was cold, I swear I was hurting my knee, but that didn’t matter for I was holding on for my future. Your mom made me stay down there for minutes. I ain’t sure what was going through her mind. Raindrops slid on her face through her lips, only to rest on my face. I was soaking. The ring I held on my hands was being pulled away by the wind. It was chaotic. Yet peaceful to stare in her eyes. All the while she never said yes. But that doesn’t explain why you grew up without a father.
I never met your mom in the fanciest of places. It was never in a restaurant. It wasn’t in some java where we both met in a cold evening to grab a cup of coffee. It wasn’t in a supermarket neither inside a church. It wasn’t in a book club nor in a poetry event. The first time I met your mom she was just sitting there, in the middle of the group. Like a lamb in a pack of wolves. Her face looked pale. Like it hadn’t seen blood for days. She was detached from the world. She was the only one who wasn’t confident enough to introduce herself. But with time she did.
“My name is Chloe, I’m an addict.”
“Hey Chloe…” other members said in unison.
I wasn’t the psychiatrist. I wasn’t an addict. I wasn’t a serial killer. I was the guy who was suffering from depression. The doc put us in pairs. Said it was some sort of medication. Learning to know each other beyond their dark faces. Your mom and I became a pair. We spoke, talk, and connected. Finally we saw the world for the beauty that it was. So started going out, having those long nights to ourselves. Attending the poetry shows together. Stop smiling. This world was beautiful. But I only learnt of it late.
Your mom looked me straight in my eyes. Like some sort of a vampire who wanted to compel me to forget everything. And there on my knees, her little pretty lips spoke the magic words. “No!”. She said no. And walked passed me. The ring fell on a ditch, I spent the next 3 hours of the fateful night searching for it. She had no remorse, whatsoever. But I understand. I wasn’t the type of a guy you take home. I was merely a fling. I was an anchor. A vessel. A staircase. That she used to pass through her dark days to bright days. The next thing I heard she left town. Took ages for me to finally meet you.
So sometimes I look at you. And I think, maybe you could’ve been mine. Sometimes I stare at your eyes, and you remind me of her. If you were my flesh maybe you could’ve been the best daughter. Maybe still you could be having a father. But sometimes words fail me, I shouldn’t have taken a no for an answer. If I was fast enough I could’ve been your father. I could’ve made your mom happy. Still,you’re the daughter I never had. I love you the same.
Bye.
Mom’s ex.
As written by Phill Ibsen ( Master Of Descriptions )
A Heart_Art_Poetics
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