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Eva Iskhakova


Daddy 

 

“Daddy” was a foreign word
That I never understood.
One that never escaped my lips,
Or fluttered into another’s ear
As my younger self doggy paddled,
Hesitantly, through the murky ocean water.

What my friends felt in piggy back rides
I felt in forced phone calls, until those
Too, ceased in due time.
They saw in family game nights
What I saw in quiet dinner tables
Set for two, not three.

There was a look of pity,
(Or was it judgment?) in every eye
That witnessed my pink colored
Piece of cardstock that read “mom,” but
What was a confused seven year old
To do in arts and crafts on Father’s Day?

With time, they spoke of camping trips
And baseball games, but their backyard
Adventures were my hours spent home alone,
As my mother worked, constantly,
To handwrite a collection of numbers on a piece
Of paper that came in the mail every month.

“Daddy” is still a foreign word
That when spoken about my being,
Seems to always have the word “issues”
Following its delivery, but never stands alone,
Just as my psyche never stands without
The absence of the man that word defines.


 

Unhealthy Attachments

 

What have we done to each other?

We are one endless cycle of resentment

Except for when we are a parcel of childlike love

Boundless in spite of winds of change

 

We are a bundle of commitment issues

Except for when our fingertips graze their other half

In a crowded room of naive bystanders so clueless

To the paragraphs our fleeting touch speaks

 

We are the worst blend of fire and gasoline

Burning so vivaciously until all in sight are cinders

Except for when our flames align in a passion

Strong enough to erase any doubts from the face of the earth

 

We are the epitome of a lucid dream

So riveting we force ourselves to stay asleep for one more minute

Of pure bliss amidst the gut-wrenching reigns of reality

Only to realize we cannot remain comatose forever

 

We are everything our hearts desire until we aren’t

Until those hearts implode with the traumas of their minds

Until our tightrope bears the inevitable question yet again

What have we done to each other

 

What euphoria have we discovered between our two souls

What prompts us to settle for bittersweet suffering

What has our love brought forth

What lengths must we go to in order to part?

 


Eva Iskhakova is a sophomore at Rutgers University, graduating in 2025. She is majoring in English and Marketing and is originally from Fort Lee, New Jersey.