I can go a month without thought of you, invading my
mind as I pretend that you do not exist, knowing that I am
better off without the trials and tribulations being your daughter
brings. You broke something special and now day by day

you grieve for it and simmer anger in your expression
as we rally around my mother, the only reason any of
us made it to today. I try so hard to love, to forgive the
drunken anger and sibilant self-pity that you brought

to us, making presents out of ****** philosophy and tears
out of sunshine, as each day you awoke hungover and
angry and we each reacted like hissing cats when you utter a
word, because nothing you have ever said has been worth the

effort it takes to listen. I loathe you. Today is your birthday.
This agony of fake smiles plays a parody across my face
and the hugs I gift are all for her; she who burns the very
brightest and you make suffer for it so. I should love you,

but daddy, hatred is something you cannot outgrow.