Honest

My Dad and I

we don't really get along much

and sometimes, its hard

trying to talk to him

when he's mad at me

and I'm mad at him.

We can get angry together--

at Trump,

at the Black Community,

at the wickedness of the world,

but nothing is resolved

when we're mad at each other

hand-in-hand.

Mom told me

that I should be honest,

respectful,

and kind,

and maybe that hate that

dug itself deep inside of my heart

will fade away with

a few simple words.

"Dad, I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"But sometimes you can be too honest."

"Sometimes you can be too condescending."

"And you won't care."

"And I'll just continue to hate myself."

"In silence."

"Then you get mad when I don't speak up."

Dad, I love you.

I'm sorry.

But the things you say at times;

they make me want to--

("Drink bleach. Hurt myself.")

Cry a lot.

Because your words are gospel to me.

Your guidance is driving me insane.

I think that

possibly

we could fix each other

if we talked more

if we opened up

fought less

smiled brighter.

Maybe you'd be more pleased

not to see

the relaxed look

on my face.

Maybe I'll be happier

knowing that my relaxed face

is a smile

at you.