absent father

a daughter, confused and abandoned

i remember the first time that i asked my mom

why i didn’t have a dad like the other little girls around

me did, it was the first time she didn’t have an answer

for the hundreds of questions a five year old is

curious to know, it was the first time i saw anger burn

in her eyes. she once warned me about my first heartbreak

that it would come in my teenage years and that it

would hurt more than anything i have ever experienced.

i listened quietly, i had no strength to tell her that i had already

experienced my first heartbreak and that no matter how

much advice she could muster up, i would never understand

why the one man who was supposed to love and protect me

left without a care. it was then that i had the thought that

would haunt me for years to come, if my dad didn’t love me

enough to stay, who ever would? and then another, was there

something wrong with me? and another, what could i have done

to make him stay? i would later find out that i would ask these

same questions about the boys i would bring to bed.

a mother, angry and giving

she tried her best to give me double the love, to make up

for the other half that would not be given to me by him

and though i could never admit it to her, it was never enough

she knows this though, even if she doesn’t hear it from me

she has felt it on her own, abandoned like me. she hates him for making

me like her and she’s angry at herself because she feels that she is to blame

my mother has given, and loved, and kissed, and cared.

she is everything in the world to me

a brother, protective and loving

the one who will walk me down the aisle when my wedding comes

he will shed the tears that should have been my fathers when

he gives me away, he’ll make a speech about how it was

him who has protected me all of these years and now will give that

responsibility to someone else. i’ll cry along when he tells our friends

and family how much he loves and adores me, and we’ll laugh

when he mentions our favorite childhood memories

the one who gave me more protection, love, and attendance

than my father ever could

a father, careless and unpresent