You remind me of my father, not in a good way.
You remind me of the ice that sets in when he makes a mistake; no flexibility, no desire to change.
You remind me of
the times he called me stupid, and she stood by and watched my face crumble in pain, yet made no move to console me, reaffirm me; love me.
the few times he said he loved me, but when it mattered he hurt me more instead of helping me heal.
the times he realized he was wrong, but never apologized.
You mostly remind me of the wall I never learned to get through.
of love half given, half shown, never fought for.
I wanted you to remind me of anyone but him.