With him beneath me, his arms wide in surrender, I rode him hard, my knees digging into his sides. I yelled. For all the nights I went to sleep thinking I’d imagined his love. For the days I didn’t think myself mighty enough to make it another hour without him. For having to find myself on my own terms, without his guidance. I pounded on his chest for having to admit that he was right, I’d needed time. Time to weed through who I wanted to be outside of my father’s shadow. For having to admit that in his absence, I’d discovered that I could make it without him. Without them both.
