wedding

to this day, i still can’t

find the right words to explain what you did

and the shit you put me through

what words should i use

to write about how, at age six,

i used to sit in the dark and bang my head against a wall

because then maybe i’d forget

about your wandering hands and the way you touched me

like you had every right to

what about when

you waltzed right into the kitchen

to ask my mom about

wedding invitations and my hand was inching

towards my fork

i wanted to drive it into your throat

cause all those years ago you took away my voice

i thought i’d feel better if you lost yours

and

if you were asking, no, i don’t wanna go to your fucking

wedding

i don’t want to see that girl’s father hand her off

with complete trust in you

i don’t want to see another person

trust in your lie

but it’s not like

anyone believes me anyway

i mean,

that’s how

it always goes.