I remember being a daddy’s girl.
Golden ringlets and yellow dresses, I was a miniature sunshine,
and I circled around you, the strongest man I knew.
I remember learning how to ride a bike.
Purple handles and a helmet painted with butterflies, I wanted to fly,
but instead, I fell and you kissed my scraped knees better.
I remember hearing the plates shatter against the wall.
Blue eyes squeezed tight shut and a rainbow blanket pulled over my head, I wanted to disappear,
and you crawled in my bed that night because you weren’t allowed in yours.
I remember spending weekend nights at your new apartment.
Bunked beds and a red couch, I felt like a stranger in your new life,
but we decorated the fake Christmas tree as if it were real and I pretended it was.
I remember Saturday morning brunch.
Eggs over easy and ketchup on my sleeve, I smiled at you even when I didn’t want to,
and you said we would always always always have our brunch, and I believed you.
I remember the ring spinning on her finger.
Tense muscles and a stomach full of lead, I cheered and laughed to hide my tears,
but you didn’t see me anymore to notice.
I remember the game you didn’t come to.
Red face and a blue jersey, I forced all my anger into that orange bouncing ball,
but when you called, I told you I didn’t mind and you ignored the lie.
I remember you asking us to be more like your new kids.
Black eyeshadow and music screaming in my ears, I ignored you,
and you yelled at me the entire drive to church because I wore my ripped jeans.
I remember that Christmas,
Blue arm cast and black tears, I became an atomic bomb of suppressed emotion,
and she told me to fuck off and you were as silent as a puppet with its strings cut.
I remember that Thanksgiving,
Icy November and icy betrayal, I was the child you wanted to erase,
and you had a new family for family vacations, one that wasn’t full of black holes like me.
I remember one Wednesday in the summer,
Desperate and swallowing my pride, I only needed a little bit more money,
but I’m a dumpster, not a new kitchen, so that would have just been a waste.
I remember how I slowly learned to hate,
Razor words and sharp smirks, I stopped being a sun and I became a hurricane,
and you have no one to blame but yourself.