Over rotten meatloaf and overcooked chicken, our forks clanked against the mismatched china. There was a glass of wine, gone too fast to be enjoyed and three somber faces that knew what was to come. “You weren’t hungry” [you never are on these nights.] And just like that half of your chicken was on my plate. “You’re eyeliner is too thick, why are you wearing so much black lately?” A failed attempt by my mother meant to distract… Yet still, I rolled my eyes and a nasty comment flew out of my mouth, “ I was just playing with my makeup, it’s not like I’m even going out tonight.” I can never go anywhere on these nights, god forbid something was to happen to you. You slammed your plate on the table, and mumbled something about leaving, and “I’ll be back in a little while.” You’re never coming back, and there’s no need to “go out” because in my eyes, dad, you’re already gone.
A contest entry
- Prose Only by Diminished Capacity.
1600 points, ended November 20, 11 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
-
Great work. Very creative. Much talent.
-
-
thank you
-
-
Powerful write, yet very sad. I don't have a close relationship with my father, we've never sat together at the dinner table. If we did, not sure what I would say to him, if I would say anything at all. The ending of this piece tells me that you're a strong person, not many people are able to put their feelings out there. Wonderful write altogether, thank you so much for entering my contest.
-
-
thank you, and thank you for the trophy.
-
-
When I was a teenager, I used to get up and walk around the table to get the salt or whatever, rather than ask my dad to pass it to me.
-
Extreme, Ridgid
Dinner time certain painful misery , all woven around the misery of a family at loss, Loss of communication, loss of respect, loss of value...love.
Excellent write
-
-
thank you.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 7 of 7
