When I was younger I saw my daddy cry
and curse at the wind.
"Damn it Irene!" Father cursed as he smashed a plate on the floor. I cowered further into my corner, the only place I felt safe. Mother sobbed.
He broke his own heart and I watched
as he tried to reassemble it.
"Daphnes…" she quivered. I could see her try to move towards him in the reflection of the hall mirror. He fliched, and stormed out of the room. "Please… let me explain."
And my momma swore
that she would never let herself forget.
The screaming continued late into the night. Father would yell, Mother would cry, and I'd huddle closer and closer into the corner. It was supposed to be a happy day. It was my birthday after all…
And that was the day that I promised
I'd never sing of love if it does not exist.
They didn't last much longer after that night. Father eventually left, and Mother still struggled with her illness. I'd always pictured them as the perfect parents. They used to smile, laugh and dance to no music. But that was in happy times, but that all died that day. And when their love died, so did mine.