Seven Thoughts of a Distant Daughter

Desiree Carrizosa, Editor

Dad forgot I was hiding under the bed from his roar of anger and yells,
Dad forgot mom was holding me when he swung his metal fist into her face creating a splatter of red,
Dad forgot that my brother was only ten when he push him against a mirror, shattering the glass creating another splatter of red,
Dad forgot that alcohol and weed weren’t his friends but his enemies,
Dad forgot that I was in a white-walled bedroom when his friend came in and touched me with his cold, rough hands,
Dad forgot about me when he remarried and had my sisters, Emilia and Gianna, sisters that never seen him like I did,
My dad still calls, but his voice fades into the pain that he caused.