I learned the true meaning of disappointment
The day I stopped calling you “daddy.”
It was the same day I realized you were not
Responsible for hanging the moon, and you
Certainly hadn’t done it for me. I realized
That the bottles in the paper bags would
Always come before me. I learned that you loved me
But that love lived in a box in the attic,
Dusty and forgotten. I learned that I’d never know
What it was like to live on my father’s shoulders,
If only for a moment. I’d never know what it was
Like to want to escape the overprotective father
Or what it’d be like to apologize to a boy for
The way my father sized him up. I’d never be chastised
For the length of my skirt or how much makeup I was wearing.
I learned that sometimes the ones that are supposed
To protect you from the pain of the world
Are the ones that hurt you the most.
I never learned what it was like to have a father.
Or at least, one that didn’t destroy you.