I looked down at the piece of paper
Random numbers and letters that carried the weight of my life

And I had to follow…

So here I am

At the doorsteps of a ghost I thought I left behind

Now there you are walking aloof in your house

While I stand outside

Watching shadows in the dark

Of a family I never had

For a second I think I hear the door crack

And I realize as my heart skips a beat

I will always be that five year old girl who ran into your arms the first time

A love that my mother experienced

And I only imagined

You held onto us so, without ever even knowing it

Such power you undeservingly have

So much hold when you’re so free

I should feel anger, yet all I feel is pain

And I know it comes from a hope I shouldn’t have

Do I knock on the door, should I make a sound?

No, it’s time to walk away…

I’ll go, yet be left behind

One world changed while the other one keeps spinning

You’ll continue on never knowing what was behind your door

So this is what it means, to be so close, yet so far…

i wrote this a few years back about a night i drove by my biological father’s house. i’d found out where he lived, after not knowing for almost 24 years. the experience was surreal. i’d caught a glimpse of his shadow in the window; it was the first i’d seen of him since my freshman year in college. and it was the last time i’ve seen him as well... i always told myself that one day when i got married, that would be the time i’d give him one last chance. he’d either come through for me for once, or i’d close that door of hope for good. i didn’t want any ghosts following me into my new life. well, my mother got a hold of him the other day - the man pretended she had the wrong number and hung up on her... the little girl in me wants her father, wants to keep hoping he’s not such a bad person. the woman in me is telling me this is it, or rather, this has to be it. no more going back. and it is that finality that has my heart aching right now...