Walking through the door,
Five hours late.
The smell of beer,
Lingers in his breath, in his stance, in his soul.
Poisoned and sick.
Comes home with ice cream,
Hoping his kind act of sugary treats we craved as children will spark something in our modern self and distract us from his intoxicated smile.
Only slurring out an "I love you" after a few cold ones.
The love, tainted with the taste of Rainier.
The person, addicted to the numb of the brew.
The daughter, dissapointed, but also desensitized to the constant alcohol persona.
Ruining his reputation with the ones he shares blood with.
A sad soul full of regret and booze.