I’m older now so I try to forget
But I get flashbacks
Of the every weekend endless parties
The music the drinking the smoke the laughter
The audible hell that was
The garage
The pretend family that was
Us
Me walking in to play you a song before bed
Which would turn into
You drunkenly doing your best at showing me how
To play Satie’s Première Gymnopédie
Which would end in me wondering how to say goodnight
While you would cry silently about nothing
On my shoulder.
I’m older now so you think I’d forget
But I remember
The first birthday you had after your brother died when
You downed a bottle or three in the span of an hour or two
I went upstairs to make sure you were okay
Only to find your friends had carried you from
The garage to your bed
Which made for the most perfect
Stumbling distance
Any drunk could ever imagine.
I’m older now so I pretend to forget
But the memories crumble with clarity at night
You, opening the bottle at five and passing out at one or two in the morning
Only coming in the house to **** and eat and banter
Oh, the endless banter
I had fun with messing with your mind and playing with your words
When you were gone
As you so often were, every night of my
Entire span of pretending to blossom. I never knew who you were going to be -
“Your dad is a drug addict you know. He’s not perfect either. What are you staring at?”
“Oh baby, you’re so brilliant. You know that?! You’re brilliant!”
“I miss him so much. I’m so so sad and lonely…”
“It’s not all about you, you know. Don’t let it go to your head.”
I learned how to be a numb construction worker,
Constantly working on the foundation of the walls
I was building to protect myself from you.
I’m older now so you’d think I’d forget,
You’d think the memories would fade with each passing year
You’d think the wounds would have healed by now,
You’d think I could call myself a strong young woman.
But I can’t, I’m tormented by remembering, I’m haunted still
I am a ghost
The voices yell at me, tell me to throw in the towel already,
Get rid of everything what a waste of space. They sound like you.
Sometimes I miss it, I miss the hell that was living with you.
I miss the consistency, the predictable time-frame in which I could depend
On you to be emotionally unavailable. When I close my eyes, I can still see
Your silhouette swaying in the hallway, your hand fumbling for the light switch
The demon that would come out of your mouth every time I said
I love you.
But I’m older now, I try to forget.
I half succeed in daylight
But the memories crumble with clarity at night
The memories crumble with clarity at night.