Dear Man Whom I Used to Call Father

Dear Father, 


I guess you were the one
who was supposed to show me how this works.
The ins and outs of love,
living, learning, and putting my happiness first. 


And your absence has made itself present
in every inch of my life.
Your icy cold heart has left its mark
in the coldest, blackest corners of my mind.


I've spilled so much ink on the pages
moaning about the boys who failed to love me,
Never did I question that 
you were the one who failed me first.


That hole in the wall above the dining room table
doesn't amount to the damage you did to our hearts.
On that cold early January day,
Dad, you ripped this family apart.


I'm not sure I'll ever find love 
because my mother used to tell me stories of how you met,
and now I'm scared that every prince charming I met,
will someday leave me crying alone, covered in red. 


Dad, you never left us physically,
but your heart isn't here.
You pass me by in the hallway,
but we've only said 10 words to each other in the last year. 


You broke my heart,
but worse than that you broke my brother.
He will never look at you the same
after the night you laid your hands on our mother. 


They say you're supposed to learn how to love
by the example of your parents,
but, Dad, if my brother grows up to love like you,
I'll honestly be embarassed. 


So since that day our family has become three,
my brother, my mother, and me,
plus a stranger on the outside looking in. 


A man that I used to call my father, but now
I no longer can. 


This poem is about: 
My family


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