There were times when the bathroom door
Was closed
The TV volume up and the apartment was empty
I was shaky
I couldn’t see
But muffles and blackouts are clear
And visitors
With uncomfortable intentions
Pill bottles and blue eyeliner
You always knew
But you never knew
“I’d never lie to my girls,” she said
And then proceeded to lie
The kitchen was small and dim with warm yellow hues but
Not in a nice way, more of a serial-killer way
I don’t remember seeing you much
But cigarette smoke and
Juicy Fruit gum from my aunt’s purse
Looking at old pictures from her wallet of you as a teenager
Not that many years ago then
Being relieved to know you once lived with golden curls and big smiles
But being shot down learning that
That itself was full of lies and masking trauma just
Seemed to float around like a flawless lilypad
In this family