Inhale. Mouth closed.
Exhale. Mouth open.
I count the number of random strangers around me
who were having a peaceful time without knowing me
or my anger management issues.
A hand, firm and strong, comes up on my shoulder.
I try smiling at him,
my father, supporter of everything I do,
there’s no reason for me to be angry at him.
But I know the smile comes off as grim,
as I see myself in him,
In his eyes, as reflection.
In the smiles we share.
In the hard, determined set of jaw
and the same pink ears.
His hand is all I need
Instead of a bucket of ice cold water.
I’m attempting the set of prompts, Rebirth in April, together with Parvathi. Check out her poems!