I pray for your fingertips. That each edge of this world you touch will walk away equally blessed as I am each day to have you. That the blood that circulates through your skin considers itself grateful to power such a beautiful monument.

I pray for your shoulders. For they will hold the weight of our universe for no other reason than love. That the stars will remember your constellation. And with the strength of god himself you will move mountains.

I pray for your feet. Each sinew of stretched promise embracing the footfall of your everything. Your presence, a fossilized stone blazing trails of altruism with a smile. And for a foot massage when you return to my hands which have Awaited you ever so eagerly.

I pray for your eyes. The cinema they are will tell me stories. Displaying travel with a short film of service and the ending credits written in forever. For your eyes are filled with life and will be memories in dreams for those wanting a better tomorrow.

I pray for your lips. As waterfalls of words will slash into the immensity in front of you, remember the power you possess in your tongue. Always speak in tongues of forgiveness. In tongues of acceptance. Your voice alone, is proof that god is good.

I pray for you mind. Finding patience in washed clothe pockets. Slow yourself to anger and quickly grow to understanding. Keep a treasure chest of memories that I may find when you return. Peace shall be present upon you, If not don't forget to ask for it.

I pray for your heart. May your heartbeat find the same channel as mine. Absorb each and every fiber of the moments you exist there. Carve drawings telling of your life on the walls. Pump life into the air current so it reaches me. After all, we are under the same sky.

Her heart
Was the most beautiful place
The only place
I would ever call home.

I am still sitting at the side of the curb where you left me with your demons. I've been looking for a way out, an escape, but in all the wrong places.
I held hands with the devil and he took me to his bed where love turned to lust and my body was no longer a temple to worship. Now I shrink away from the slightest touch of anyone because I started to believe that they were all the devil in disguise, well aren't they dad?
I don't know why you came back and left as fast as you did, but it sure warned me about the people who made empty promises that echo off my walls at night.
The words I wanted to say to you that night still bounce off my lungs, some linger on my tongue, few make it to my lips.
I have to write about my strongest memory, so how could I forget the night you left?
I thought if I could be daddy's little girl the storm inside of me would settle and there would be peace, but you broke each one of my bones with your bare hands that night, leaving me in a pile of self rot on the curb, didn't dare to turn around to see your own blood destroyed and who was I to think that family was forever?
You told me I used you for your money, but all I ever used you for was love. I thought you were home but I never even lived there for two years before you packed my things, kicked me out, and slammed the door.
You got louder and I tried to cover my little brother's ears to protect him from the poison spewing from your mouth and I tried to cover his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch his sister be ripped to pieces by the man he looks up to.
After you left I walked into my house, the four oceans had been emptied and spilled from my eyes. I screamed about the hate I had for you and pounded my fists against the walls and my mom was scared and I saw the faith drain from her eyes when she realized what you had done.
Nothing is poetic or beautiful or okay about a father abandoning his daughter. So when I thought of my strongest memory, this one came to mind first and I hope you know that your daughter writes about the ways you destroyed her.

We've become a generation where-
suicide is glamorous-
self harm becomes a game of hide and seek
and eating disorders become a competition.
But nobody talks about the friends, and lovers who get left behind-
when things go too far.
The people who shudder at gun shots in movies,
and the people who can't walk past rope in a hardware store;
without choking up.
The people left with nothing more than memories.
Stuck remembering birthdays- and death days of people who left us too soon.
Friends and lovers, who were helpless in their efforts to change the situation for the better.
Those who are left behind, look for someone to blame-
ourselves, the world, society-
but in reality we will never know who to blame-
or if we could have even made a **** difference.
Our generation romanticizes pain and suffering-
"where it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt."