Sometimes, I don't want to think about it,
how he never believed in true love,
how he never waited for love,
but begged for love –
and god, he loved them all!
He wasn't a man I could respect.
Cruel and cold,
a simpleton at best.
I read his poetry this morning
the poems he wrote for all his kids
and noticed one was missing
his first born daughter,
the one who loved him the best.
I know I've heard it before,
but it's not even listed in the index,
as if she never existed.
How her heart must ache.
was never unconditional
at our house.
I knew, early on,
that I did not belong.
I forgave him for the abuse
but what he did to my mother,
I could not forgive and forget.
I made excuses for his behavior,
because I wanted to love
and respect him,
but he never did gain my respect.
He's gone now,
an empty shell of whom he used to be,
cold and alone in death.
I bowed to kiss his forehead.
I, Judas, bowed to the kiss of death.