Daddy's Girl

I've only ever known you, so I grew up knowing nothing else.

The sun never rises

when you're home now.

I remember the day 

you left, as you

hugged me, saying you'd

be back soon.

That day the sun shone

down on your

chocolate skin and seemed

to kiss your melanin features.

The day never comes

which bring cawing birds

who naw at the decaying

bodies of rodents and

mammals,

left by mother earth

uncared for, until they took their

last breath.

The beam of light, which shines 

into my room, tiny fibers dance 

in that light, bringing warmth

to anything it touches.

Here, the sun never rises,

though.

It never pierces through

my skin like an unwanted

lover,

never holds onto me 

tight, 

like the sea would 

hold onto your

flesh when you

dunked your head into

the water.

I remember the day

you came home.

I am an adult now,

so I'm not sure I even know

you

it's like staring in 

the face of a person

you've walked past before

a lunch lady you know,

an old man you don't,

but not being able to put your

finger on where.

So, now

when you're home, daddy,

the sun never rises.

Author's Note

A poem about how my world was dark after my father left, but by the time he came back, it didn't light back up how I thought it would.