I don't know how we got here.

Sometimes, I just want to fight you. Like, really lose my mind all over you — shoving, punching, pushing, pulling. I’m talking to you and you’re looking at me and I’m being honest with you and you walk away. Your phone rings, and you walk away like I wasn’t just connecting with you and telling you everything. So I follow you and you look over your shoulder as we start a foot-race aiming to see who can get to your phone first. You put your arm out so I won’t pass you and I shove that shit and you recoil back. Square up at me. Putting your finger in my face, telling me that’s the last time I’m gonna put my hands on you. Your phone is still ringing. I can barely see you ‘cause somehow I got water in my eyes and I’m so mad at you, I refuse to address them as tears. I push you hard and tell you to get your hands out my face, but you barely move. Your phone is still ringing.

You’re symbolizing everything right now. Through my blurred vision, you’ve lost your shape and all I can see instead is why my dad never took me to the park. Why I received currency instead of a conversation. You don’t even look the same and I’m steady fighting, steady pushing. I feel your resistance, but I still can’t see you. Still don’t know my dad’s favorite color. I feel both of your hands on my wrists now. My arms are up over my head. Your phone is still ringing. Why won’t she stop calling you? What is his favorite food? A crash, and then pain. I think something fell. I can finally see you again… my baby. Your beautiful brown skin. Your eyes I can’t run away from. Your nose. Your lovely lips. I’ve stopped resisting. We’re facing off in the middle of silence, your eyes asking me questions I don’t have the answers to. I slide down the wall, my face in my hands, no memories of a daddy-daughter dance. I feel your lips on my forehead, my fingers. You peel them away and kiss my cheeks, my nose. I open my eyes… my baby. Your beautiful brown skin. Your eyes I can’t run away from. Your nose. Your lovely lips. I’ve stopped resisting. We’re facing off in the middle of silence. Shoving, grasping, pushing, pulling, biting, panting. I know you’re trying to love me, but I’m still fighting you. I feel both of your hands on my wrists now. My arms are up over my head. If I could just get to your phone. Your lips have found my favorite places, you welcome my tears on the backs of your shoulders. My baby. If I could just get to your phone.