I was always too young to understand what was actually going on in your head,
Though I don't think even you knew completely.
You wouldn't tell us about it though;
We were children,
Too naive,
You didn't want us thinking about that kind of thing anyway.
The closest I got to understanding,
Was the time you cried,
The only time I had ever seen you crack.
She wasn't there to help us out,
So we sat with you,
We cuddled,
And I handed you some tissues,
But you didn't explain.
We were too young to understand that kind of thing anyway.
There's always been a part of me that thought I was your favourite.
I was always your little princess,
I could get away with anything.
But I think my stubbornness as a child scared you a little,
I hadn't mean to make you upset that time,
But she was much easier to entertain,
And easier to get along with.
I think you interpreted that as her being my favourite.
And though I've grown out of that stubbornness,
I think you still think the same thing;
You've not got enough confidence to understand this kind of thing anyway.
When I said goodbye the other day,
Though I don't think you saw it,
I was on the verge of tears.
Sometimes I worry you don't quite realise how much you mean to me,
That I don't have favourites,
And those worries make it so much harder to leave.
I don't speak about it with you often,
It would be a strange conversation for me to have,
But if you knew how much I spoke about you to everyone,
If you knew how highly I thought of you as a person,
Not just as my father,
I think it would help you come round.
But we're not around each other enough for that to happen,
And I think there's a part of you that's still too stuck in your head to understand that kind of thing anyway.