First Date.
Smiling as wide as watermelon,
Her opinionated grounding support,
Opens the jagged cracks of the rampant,
Rapidly beating, torn and patched heart of mine.
The glint of her almond deep brown eyes,
Send me into a heavenly home of beauty,
I want to be there for her,
Through the fruity smiles and bitter cries.

Second date.
Hours of chattering,
Goals and achievemts chattering,
Ends with a $20 bill in her hand,
As it is for her schooling, or what her heart desires,
So long as she doesn't aband,
On me as I've experienced through my life,
And am excessively tired.
Letting me lay my head on her shoulder,
Protecting me from the cold and colder,
Letting me let go of manly regrets for a while,
While she shows me what love means as if I were I a child,
Receiving a warm hug from a warm mother,
A memory I never had.

Third Date.
I take her out and for the first time,
She complains about the unfulfilling dime I've gven her.
Her deep brown eyes become dark and menacing,
But it is a side to her that I am quickly forgetting,
As I wrap her in an embrace, closed with the brush of lips,
The brush of lips soon turn to a painting of our wedding together,
A night of a bubbling laugher of a happiness of a feeling of infinity,
The date being soon forgotten and painting soon lost after 15 years and 4 children together.

Our baby girl is a wonder of a spectacle of a miracle,
The life of hers I'd give up mine without hestitation,
The life of hers I hold in my arms in a soft blankie,
A softness from her I feel peace and love from.
From her, I can escape the stess of work and her mother,
Who complains more and more the more the life of hers,
Starts to whine and cry.
I want to be there for her,
Through her softness and cries.

The daughter of mine is now fourteen years old,
Stellarly studious, intuitive, caring and wise for a girl of only fourteen,
She understands my story better than her own mother,
She is better example for her younger siblings than her own mother.
Years of chatter,
Chattering about college and her mother and small talk,
All ends with the depressed life of hers being diagnosed with clinical depression.
As it is for the years of unsupportive parenting that we've shown her,
She has it as hard as I did as a boy of only fourteen,
Emotionally, she is racked,
I can see when she seems to yell her screams her cries,
Locked in a bathroom with only her reflection to comfort her.
But it is up to her own strength to bring her up to be,
The happy little girl she used to be.
I cannot be there for her,
Through her cries.

Emotionally, she is f***ed,
I can see when she confonts me with the words " Just know, dad, I have boundaries and you can't break them, otherwise, I will leave"
I ask her if she just wants me and her mother to go back to the islands, if that's what she wanted all this time,
All this time, that she has been seeing her counselor at school, getting me in trouble,
For the merciless wars fought between her mother and I,
For the times I left her to cry locked in the bathroom,
For the times I give her false comfort and advice,
For not seeing what went on in her deep brown almond eyes.

But it is up to her stremgth to bring her to a place,
Where she can forget about struggles to a point,
That she can just forgive because that is what God wants,
Because that is the only way to numb the pain,
To for once give herself to ignorance as she forgives and forgets,
No matter how many times I break her heart,
No matter how many times she and I both become dark and menacing,
No matter how many times I fight a war with her in the middle of the gunfire,
No matter how mant times I do wrong,
She must forgive and forget,
Like I have for her mother.
Always, always,
I will always be there for her fruity smiles and bitter cries.