a-ffection

 when we were little

my sister and I used to climb into our parents bed

and watch a show with a talking doll that used to teach us things

 

and that was our Saturday morning

 

as we grew

the connection grew colder

my need for affection grew louder

 

-

you were never there

you’d yell at me for not helping you enough

for not being good enough

you’d yell at me to leave you alone

you were always unhappy and dad was away more than half of the day

 

-

the first time you told me

“I’m proud of you”

I cried

 

I was eighteen and I’ve never heard that from you

 

there we were, one thousand miles away

me at a poetry slam

you at home

you didn’t hear half of the words I said

and I was glad

because I talked about all the moments you weren’t there and I couldn’t

share

and I said how I found affection in all the wrong places

until affection found me in my wrong place and it never left

how hands have touched

mouths have kissed

shoulders have cried

and you were never there

 

but then you called and you said “how proud I am to have you as my daughter” and

I crumbled on that building’s stairs

I was in the company of a man that didn’t understand

and it took me hours to breathe normally again because

 

I spoke up that day

 

you weren’t there to see

and after all those years I fought for attention

you finally gave me

long-distance

affection