when I was four my father took me to our neighbors wedding.
I wore my frilliest dress
pink feathers adorning my floor length skirt
and a bright smile painted across my face.
dance with me, daddy!
I was happy, so happy
he picked me up and spun me around
my little girl, he'd whisper
my little girl.
when I was six my father would play the guitar for me
his large hands danced across the thin strings
filling the room with a sweet melody
and he would sing my favorite song.
I would dance around the basement
spinning, jumping, flailing wildly in circles to the beat.
I was happy, so happy.
when I was ten, my father began to grow distant
I miss my dad, i'd say. I miss my dad
he'd come home late, his breath reeking of alcohol
my mother would approach him
and mutter something under her breath
he raised his voice
he's loud, so loud
I began to cry, and ran up to my room
that's not my dad, i'd sob.
when I was twelve, I was scared of my father
hiding in my room whenever he would come home
cowering in a corner when he yelled at my mother
and crying in my room when he yelled at me.
put the bottle down, I'd beg
give me my dad back.
When I turned fifteen, I never spoke with Chad.
He was barely home, after all.
Always at the bar,
cheating on my mother,
getting drunk to forget the world.
When he did come home, I would hide away in my room
a reflex from so many years ago
stowing myself away until he went off on his own again.
I used to always count the seconds until he returned
missing him every moment he was away
but now, I wouldn't mind if he didn't come back.
I miss my dad