To Frank

I hate when I get kissed on the head,

and I get triggered if anyone smells like you.

I hate when my boyfriend kisses me 

with stubble,

and I get triggered if 

he kisses me without me seeing him 

because of you.

You made me reject my own femininity. 

The lack of a father had to be replaced 

by me.

I had to be a tomboy.

I had to be masculine: 

strong, courageous, independent.

I wanted nothing to do with dolls 

and pretty dresses.

I wore shorts and liked playing rough.

I liked boy things, never pink.

I hated when you kissed things in my room,

trying to manipulate me into giving 

you affection,

but I was only disgusted when your 

saliva was on my things.

Monkey see, monkey do,

You came to see me, and we’d play together.

Monkey see, monkey do,

I began coming over to bask in your book.

Monkey see, monkey do,

You ignored me.

Monkey see, monkey do

I stopped playing with you.

I’d run away from you,

because something about you wasn’t right to me.

I didn’t like hugging you

because it felt wrong.

When we played, we always argued.

I wanted nothing to do with you, 

but I was forced to because you’re my “father.”

My mother only did her best, 

and you blamed her for it.

It’s not my fault you weren’t a father,

and I treated you as such.

You’re not a father,

you’re just a man in my life I 

couldn’t get away from.

Now look what you’ve done.

You’ve shaped me, 

are you proud?

I’m disappointed in you,

but I’ll keep your last name

and prove to the world that 

I’m better than you.

I’ll show the world how 

a true Tejeda should act

instead of being a disgrace like you.