IFuckingHateMyDad

Photo by Molly Zofia

By Molly Zofia

I filled my heart through my nose,

When I was nineteen years old,

And so concerned with

Piling my soul with a 

Chemical lightness.

All the while,

I weighed myself,

On the tipping scales of 

Tentative womanhood and 

Fragmented trepidation,

Urging myself to 

Borrow comfort from the 

Familiarity of numbness 

While I searched for normality 

In the face of a boy who

Told me to shut up when I spoke because,

He was just like you. 

And I filled my time with lines,

Lines that sent me crashing through

The cracks in the walls

Crashing 

Like your clumsy rebuttals,

Forcing their way into my throat

Where a new pair of hands find me.

And I 

Crash. 

Again, again, again.

Eyes rolling back like a smack in the face.

Tracing the fluorescent bars in the ceiling

Back down to the residue on my phone screen

To my reflection in the mirror, tilt my head,

Waiting for a smile that never came.

I hadn’t heard from you in two months. 

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