for more than moms affection.
my body is screaming for food.
and tonight we get the
real deal instead of
our usual fast

or flash-

frozen repast.
but any food is my
friend because it’s under
my control, unlike most of the
rest of my life. i eat when i’m sad.

i eat when i’m lonely. i eat when
i hurts so much inside, it’s
either eat or find an
easy way to die.
the only

time i

can’t eat to
total contentment
is when daddy’s around. “no
daughter of mine will wear double-
digit clothes”, he said once, and meant it.

out of control.
sometimes they’re
the same thing.
the trick is knowing
that, realizing
it’s okay to feel
out of control
once in a while,
as long as
you’re sure
you can regain
the upper hand
when you
absolutely need to.
and really when it
comes to my
reclaiming control,
it comes down to one
simple little thing,
something i sometimes
have difficulty with:
saying no.

who comes
home every
day, dives
straight into
a tall amber
bottle, falls
into a stone-
walled well
of silence, a
place where he can tread
the suffocating loneliness.
on the surface, he’s a proud
man. but just beneath his not-
so- thick skin, is a broken soul.
in his courtroom, he’s a tough
but evenheaded jurist, respected
if not particularly well liked. at
home, he doesn’t try to disguise his
bad habits, has no friends, a tattered
family. a part of my despises him,
what he’s done. what he continues
to do. another part pities him and
will always be his little girl, his
devoted, copper- haired daughter.
his unfolding flower. but enough
about daddy, who most definitely
has plenty of secrets. secrets mom
should want to know about. secrets
i should tell, but instead tuck away.
because if i tell on him, i’d have to...
tell on me.