“I trust you on this,” he says
but he doesn’t know that I’m haunted
by the idea
of stepping into another mans arms.

I watched my father leave a trail of love letters
throughout our two story house addressed to a secret lover.
I read them word for word
and admired his love
but hated that it was for another woman.
They say infidelity runs in the family,
like a deep rooted disease
and I’m afraid I am next.

I was the accomplice to the boy I loved
while he fooled another.
He stole midnight kisses from me
but returned every morning for her.
He stole innocence from me,
and happiness from her.
I was a chess piece to a boy
who was playing a very good game.

I am not my father’s daughter
I am not his past mistakes,
but I hold my own wrong doings
and they lead me to unfaith.

I would slit my throat
and hang myself to dry
before I followed my father’s footsteps,
but before you say you trust me
just know what lies in my veins.