I’ll tell my dad about you.
Its all his fault and a half,
Those hugs he never gave
I found in your cold embrace,
Those harsh words
I tried to drown with your sweet nothings.
Oh! how my soul craved an ‘i love you’.
Bad…, bad enough to let me go,
Into the dark with you.
I mistook your roughness for passion
And the abuses for care…
How shocked I am to discover
The softness of a father’s love
They are nothing near what you gave,
Crumbs I struggled for,
I was blinded by your interest, mistaking it for attention,
But by strength,
I have groped through the darkness to feel the crown on my head.
I slowly realise
I’m queen, worth more than you could ever afford.
—
I’ll tell my daughter about you.
How that crooked smile she will seem to like is nothing but crookedness.
Your experience won’t dazzle her, she won’t be caught naive
Your smile, your moves, she’ll see for what they are
Your hands would never be allowed to grope in the dark her budding towers
Your alcoholed breath she’ll never be too close to inhale.
—
Most importantly,
I’ll tell my son about you
How he should never be like you
Girls are meant to be treated with respect, and love is not a sport you play to acquire trophies.
He’ll be smart, but not smart enough to flick a pill in her glass and still maintain his coy grin
He’ll fall in love, under bright lights, Never in the dark.
And when he does, he’ll hold her high like a ‘throphy’ cos indeed he can see that she’s priceless, queen.
Chukulee 