And I can't delete it.
Now, when I see my father’s face, I don’t see the fishing trip. I see the tremor in his hand before he told me he was proud. When I kiss my wife, I don’t feel warmth. I feel the ghost of every woman I failed before her, pressing their cold lips against the back of my neck. freudian download
At first, I thought it was a dream. My mother’s perfume in the elevator. The shape of my fifth-grade desk under my palms. Then came the static — the real static — the hiss of every birthday wish I never made, every slammed door I pretended to forget. And I can't delete it
Yes. Confirm? …No. Would you like an even shorter version (e.g., for Twitter or a caption) or a more lyrical/poetic one? When I kiss my wife, I don’t feel warmth