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Your tattoo reaches all the way across my back: & I always thought it would be better: if my father never saw it. Did you hear my apology? : I want to show up to your wedding or whatever: drunk as fuck. Because of this particular shame I can go swimming with my mother: but not my father.

You used to make Velveeta dip but never said Sorry: I think about being in a bar & accidentally meeting your estranged father: who was really not like my father. A lot of psycho stuff goes here that you thought was whatever: You were less sensitive than you thought but let me tell you, if I went back: maybe I could have loved you better: than your mother.

Let me tell you – when I'm sick I can't imagine getting better: The princess on her glass mountain will be whatever: we want. I'm too ashamed to call my father: I have elaborate dreams where I am kissing the princess & she's your mother: I'm not sorry: But I'll take it back.

The princess said to her mother: "Not to be too dramatic, but this constructed femininity feels like living in a constant apology": Your mother's dead so her advice can't make you a better: lover. The princess said, "How did you know you loved my father?" : No matter how stupid, my reasons are there. Can't take that shit back: The princess said, "Girls with long hair make me weep." Whatever.

When you tattooed me & asked about the pain I said, Keep going, it's whatever: sort of how you told stories about your mother: We fucked mostly with me on my back: You brought everyone up from the dead just to make them say Sorry: Yeah, you hated your dad: but that made me love you better.

When I think about my father: I want to cut off my breasts & go back: age 9, driving to get a portrait done for my mother: I forgot my hairbrush on purpose because I thought my hair looked better: unbrushed. That was my great defiance. Or whatever: This was supposed to be a love story but it's not & I don't think I'm sorry.

I thought love meant laying back – my mistake – or whatever: I wish you would get over your mother: but I'm not sorry; if I'm honest, I couldn't love you better – you were more like yours / not enough like my father.

–Portia Elan (from Cloud Rodeo)