My Dad's mistress comes home with once a week

She sneaks through the garage door, up the stairs, and into the locked bedroom door of his room

She terrorizes my mother 

my brother

and I. 

His mistress holds his pain. She

is not a she--

She's budlight

she's whiskey

she's pain.

She's what's wrong with us.

Alcohol hurts, so I will never partake in that melancholy.

I'm leaving soon, in the fall.

I used to hate my dad's mistress. 

But it's not her fault.

It's his, but I must forgive him for his drinking, 

just as he must come to terms with his pain.