hey kid, he mutters

as he seeps

down

into the creavasses

of the creaky couch

his scent lingers-

in

your

mind

it's the one that brings you back to Christmas

you're counting down

3 people ahead of me 

2

1

my turn!

your cheeks strain

from smiling so wide

you gently hold your gift

as if "fragile" is smeared

all across

the box

but then your eyes glance over

to the glass in his hand

the one that's half full/ half empty

there's no right way to look at it

he st

          um

     bl

           es

over

hey kid letsss ta-take a lookatt

what you have here

the gift disintegrates

in your palms

only a wrapped box remains

you don't remember what was inside

you just remember he offered you

a ride home that night

But your my daughter,

and I'm your f***ing father.

You have to listen to me.

Don't you f***ing trust me?!

his words somehow overpower

the stench of alcohol on his breath

you have a response

but the words

stand still

on your tongue

as still as you were when he went to grab you

and pull you inside

your Aunt tells him not tonight

and you sit in her car-

silent

the silver exterior is your knight

in shining armor

but you're next to your brother who weeps

confused and hurt

blaming you

for making dad act that way

now dad's even more upset

and the drinks will quickly multiply

but slowly your pain subsides 

because when father doesn't know

how to be father anymore,

you must not cry.