should i tell her what an S.O.B.
you were to me - how you yelled
what you called me, how easily you
forgot i existed some days - i should
tell her this. she did not miss out
on one damm thing - but like all
little girls - she won't believe me
she already has made you out in
her mind. how dashing you were
how tall, and blond, and blue eyed
how beautifully you played when
her mom sang. how you were the love
story her mom chose to forget but over
coffee how you sneaked in as the steam
escaped. I will tell her no such thing
not the words, or the yelling, the hurt
i will say what a friend once texted:
upon your death dad: he's not so bad
food on the table, a roof over your
head, and he did not hit you: doesn't
sound so bad in my book
