You went away after you punched a hole in the bathroom wall of our apartment; after you harbored all of your aggression into the plaster, and felt it best to leave us all behind.

We were small and unaware that you weren't coming back; fixated on the distractions given to us to keep us in our fantasy lands.

Zero phone calls or messages left on the machine for us to listen to; to soothe the brokenness we felt in our small hearts and to ease the confusion that filled our wandering minds.  

Tears and dark nights of continuous pleads and questions to her about you; why you left us and if it was something we did, if we pushed you.

Never seeing you until we were older; anger and resentment clouding our visions, hating you for what you did, and for what you didn't do.

So many unanswered questions and tear stained pillow cases because we needed to be needed by you; we needed you to be our father.