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.