The light breeze from the half open window carries the bitter-sweet smell of the Lillie's i brought you just a day ago. they are your favorite. "it was the first flower i gave your mother, they mean i dare you to love me." That very same sentence you repeated every time your heart missed her. I am sitting in your chair Dad, with a little black box in my heart which contains either poison or just words. After so many ears of my mouth trying unsuccessfully to crawl past all the "what if's," all the stop signs and the pathetic fear. This day shall be the day i will show you what the little black box holds.
I take your hand, it's a little cold and instead of a foggy memory floating to the surface I am now faced with sharp daggers of the past. Flashes of myself running into your arms, of the first day you brought home a puppy for me after weeks of me pleading with -what i thought was affective, my very own puppy dog eyes - and of all the afternoons we spent on the back porch.
I can almost picture the small hole being burned and imprinted onto my heart whenever my mind goes against my will and hurdles what we used to be causing the memories to dangle in the front of my mind like dead fish on a hook. Our story has been written in ink and so we cannot erase that chapter where we stopped spending time on the porch or going to the park, where our conversations became shorter by the day. That chapter is now full of ink stains Dad, and it's not our fault, it's mine.
My palm rested on your cheek as my mouth - for what seems to be the last time - plunged into my heart, grasps the little black box and drags it out to the surface. It sits at the back on my throat waiting for the correct moment. Its starts to slowly make its way up to the tip of my tongue as I am being ripped with the thoughts of how this tiny, insignificant black box separated me from you. The fear of it's poison penetrating your system obligated me into pushing you so far away that all hopes of return were vanished.
It finally dives out from my mouth, I am a lesbian. The box is now open and there is no intension of closing it again. I wanted you to see what was in the box. I wanted you to know me. A tear fell from my sealed eyes onto my little finger and trailed off onto your ear.
This is my moment of truth but it is too late. You are not in this world to hear it now. You will never know me.
