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Sep 2020
When I was five
I watched my father drink  
until his cheeks were rosy pink
but I didn’t think anything of  
it as he playfully chased me on my bike
on a warm August evening.  
The lower the sun sank into the earth,
the more Budweiser cans would open  
and my mother would turn a blind eye
so I couldn’t tell how tired and solemn she looked
until I was sixteen and I noticed they didn’t talk anymore.
My father couldn’t look at me when he asked how my day was,
pouring another can of beer into a glass
and the foam poured over the rim  
just like my anger and pure resentment
for the man who used to make me laugh until I cried
and now the tears soon flowed for different reasons. .  
My parent’s relationship crumbled as did my heart  
as I watched my father’s alcohol intake increase  
and the love I thought he had for me vanish.  


“Remember when you cried when I got my driver’s license?”
I was ignored as he swirled beer around in his glass.  
“Do you still care? Don’t blame this on me.”
A simple text he sent
to his own daughter  
“I never want to see you again.”
Deep in the core of my being resided a hatred  
for a sorry human being who dared to call himself a man
once his true feelings revealed themselves.  
Soon I was twenty five and I found myself still wondering
why I was blamed for his own disease  
and I realized I could be as boiling angry, hurt, and confused  
and clench my fists until they burned just hearing his name
it just wouldn’t change anything.  
He has become a floating memory creeping
deeper and deeper  
in the back of my mind  
drowning in liquor until he completely fades.
It's been years since I've seen or spoke to you.
Melanie Gamache
Written by
Melanie Gamache  27/F/NJ
(27/F/NJ)   
587
 
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