For the first time
I felt it—
a father’s love,
for the first time.
Tell me,
did you notice?
The weight I’ve been dragging,
the restless nights,
anxiety carved into my bones.
Is this how forgiveness works—
arriving too late,
yet still taking root?
Your love touched me like water,
cool on cracked lips.
I drank it in,
grateful—
but hungry for more.
And maybe it’s selfish,
but I can’t stop wanting it.
Because I deserved
more than scraps,
more than silence.
I wanted to be seen
inside and out—
not just the daughter who endured,
but the one who still longs
to be held,
fully,
without condition.
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