“First Communion Money"
He would always tell me that I’m very perceptive.
Proves how much of an idiot he was,
Thinking that I’d never find out.
Kinda disturbing how easily children
Believe things, instinctively giving out
Trust and reliance like those creepy guys who
Give out free samples in the mall,
Suction cups against a cold shower wall
Of lies. No wonder it’s so
Hard for some of us to let go.
Not me though. Never fell for that
Candy-in-the-van kind of stuff.
I have divorce to thank for that.
I saw it fall out of his pocket.
Idiot.
It kinda looked like something that
I should dump outside in the snow or
Something that belongs in a pie recipe,
Not something that could destroy a family
Or evaporate any ounce of trust I have left in me.
I knew that was where my First Communion money went.
And why I had to put my brothers to bed when
he left us alone at night.
And why he always got so worked up.
Man, he’d get pretty steamed.
I lied earlier.
I sure as hell believed in Santa and that other crap kids fell for.
And I sure as hell cried when I found out it wasn’t real.
I cried a lot.
And I cried a lot when I found out what he’d been doing to
destroy our lives.
I cry when I try to think how my brothers and I
Are going to pay for college.
I guess you could say my innocence and dreams
Were like a sheet of glass,
Shattered and a token of
Years of bad luck.
Though this kind of glass isn’t the kind that you can just
piece back together with some crazy glue.
It’s like once it’s broken it’ll forever be
Unsalvageable. And if you try to fix it,
You’ll only cut your finger.
You’re left standing over the pile of shattered glass,
Bleeding, and staring at yourself
In the reflection,
Wondering if that face will one day get yourself
A nice, rich husband who treats you right and
Has a bank account worth
A million checks of First Communion money.
Or you wonder if
You’re gunna make that money yourself.
Because you try and tell yourself that
You’re strong and smart
And going to have an amazingly successful job one day.
But it’s kinda hard to have any confidence when
The cut is just too deep.
He left a hell of a scar.
Smiles and humor have been my concealer.
But I still feel it throbbing.
Or maybe that’s my heart pounding
Because I’m always afraid.
He never said he was sorry.
Never even went to rehab.
Not even for his kids.
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