Meshka's Flow

You lay in bed, carefree, taking pleasure without a thought, Never knowing the consequence that life had quietly brought. Nine months later, your first child entered the world, And day after day, you watched that little boy unfurl.

Three years passed before another choice you’d make— And nine months later, another child she would bake. Reckless and restless, you lived without pause, No reflection, no accountability, no thought for the cost of your flaws.

Then came a baby girl, precious and new, Placed in your arms — she should have been the world to you. For six short months, your mind spun in doubt: Should you stay, or should you walk out?

You chose to leave, quietly counting the days, Planning your exit in subtle, calculated ways. You fled overseas, chasing freedom and thrills, Returning years later with a woman who filled The voids you carried but never confronted.

A wife, a family, a home — none of it you desired. You wanted to roam, to chase the next spark that lit your fire. So you came back to tear your kids from their mother, Not to raise them — just to wound your former lover.

You dropped them with your mother, then vanished again, Off to California, wearing your apathy like a grin. You didn’t want us — you wanted revenge, Leaving wounds so deep they’d take decades to mend.

Eight years later, you tried again, And nine months later, you fathered another son. But nothing changed, nothing healed, nothing grew — That baby boy was the only thing new.

Time marched on, and I kept hoping for more, Longing for a father I’d never get to adore. I wanted to sit on your lap, to be Daddy’s girl, But reality hit hard — a cold, unyielding world.

You disappeared again, no letters, no calls. And when asked why, you said, “I thought he’d be better,” As if that explained it all.

Still, year after year, I searched for your name, Dialing strangers, hoping one might claim To be the man I longed to see — The father who was supposed to love me.

One morning, a groggy voice answered the phone, And excitement clouded what I should have known. You said you were the one I’d been searching for, And for a moment, I felt whole to my core.

But disappointment became the rhythm of the years, My days soaked in unanswered tears. What was wrong with us? What did we do? Why was our childhood painted in shades of blue?

Eventually, I stopped giving you my time. But one September day, life delivered another cruel line. I looked into his eyes — glassy, empty, fading fast, And begged him not to leave, to fight, to last.

I pressed on his chest, round after round, Until paramedics lifted him from the ground. Soon after, they told us he had crossed over — The man who raised us, who chose to be our father.

I told you, hoping you’d care, But you showed your true colors — cold, detached, unfair. One of the hardest moments I’ve ever known, I failed to save the man who made us feel at home. I wanted to share that pain with you.

But you sent a text — not even a call: “Sorry for your loss, but I didn’t really know him.” And I crumbled, knees hitting the floor as I recalled Every hurtful word you’d ever spoken, Every promise you’d left broken.

Your message replayed in a merciless loop, Along with “I would have never looked for you.” And in that moment, something inside me finally broke free — I decided you were dead to me.

So I sat down and wrote a Dear John letter, Setting myself free, because I finally knew better.