my father smells like love,
this intoxicating, welcoming smell of masculine cologne and cigarette smoke lures me in with such force.
"darling, i'd like you to meet miles." my father gestured toward a chubby man with a contagious smile.
"i remember you" i laugh remembering the spawn of my whole life in the small suburban scandal.
"it's a pleasure to meet you on better circumstances" he laughs fondly.
we spent the whole week catching up on lost time. although i didn't have a mother, i had two men who wanted to be apart of my life and for that i am so thankful.
but the last night i was there, long after they thought i was asleep i crept downstairs for some water and overheard a sad discussion.
"love, the doctors said you need to quit these antics, your liver is failing and your lungs are weak" miles sighed and a lump formed in my throat.
"i'm just glad i manned up to be the father she needed, before it's too late." he whispered the last part and i slowly turned myself around, making myself go back to bed, alone with my thoughts.
my father is going to die, just when we started to get close, just when when we forgave each other. this is why i don't believe in god. he lets his children suffer after they've only glimpsed at love, at life.
i went home that day, promising to come visit next month, not uttering a word of what i heard.
STAI LEGGENDO
Picasso // h.s.
Fanfiction"you know what i do, it's an art form, i'm like the Picasso of killing," the man with green eyes said spinning the knife in his hand. "funny, because i'd say you're closer to Van gogh, considering he was insane as well."
