i saw your daughter today.
on my screen.
in my hands.
and then in my chest.
she had your eyes.
your wild hair.
your stupid little dimple that shows
only when you're laughing
at something you truly love.
she held music like you did.
not as a hobby, but like a goddamn language.
and i—
i broke.
quietly.
alone.
beside the girl who sleeps beside me,
but never truly reaches me.
you moved on.
you bloomed.
and now you gave your light to someone new.
and i,
the boy you left in Grey,
am still here.
wishing
i could've been
her father too.