Looking Back

Looking back,
I should have known.
Memories filled with holes,
holes that cannot be filled
by merely wishing them so.
Straining, I look back,
the signs were all there.
Missed birthdays and
hidden affairs.
Was there a single person
you placed above yourself?
Besides the victim you play
so well?

The memories resurface,
this time clearer than before.
I was mistaken, and
for a minute I will blame myself.
That minute, however, will end
and that is when I’ll see,
that the holes are not holes at all,
but empty spaces a father should be.

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