he left when my sister was only about two, by that time she couldn't even tie her shoes, let alone even understand or process what my mom and dad had gotten into

he punched a hole in the wall of our old bathroom, back in the apartment we used to call home, where the apparition of a man lived that I never truly knew

it was late and I don't even remember him leaving, yet I've grown up with the blame and I have carried the shame of feeling like it was something I did, that I didn't deserve him

he ripped away what I called home and with his violent hands, set fire to everything I loved. His lips spit toxic words that ripped apart everyone of my limbs

i hated him because it wasn't hard not to. He never came around and he never tried to call. He punctured a hole in my heart, one that could never be filled and I've accepted the fact that he will never know me or my favorite color or why I despise him