Father,
I was still a child when you took your lies,
And slid them between my fourth and fifth ribs.
I cried that night,
And for the first time I didn’t wish you were there to hold me.
I still see echoes of you,
In my mother’s tears,
The bitter laugh of heartbreak,
The knife I hide in my bed.
You took so much from me,
Left me shattered in your wake
(But you still said you loved me)
This poem is about:
My family