You kissed me on the forehead
and told me you'd be back
later at night
when you ended your shift.
The time in which
I would already be fast asleep
dreaming of the father
that you promised,
but never got the chance to be.
You excused your absences
with material goods used
to create a
superficial mind,
luxurious items that act
as remembrances of the bond
you and I lack.
The relationship that serves as
the vital component to our kinship.
But I cannot blame,
no,
I will not resent you
If I now know
that you would have been there
if you could have.
I just wish that
I would have known that before.
Before I let your absence
challenge my confidence,
and burglarize my
sense of security.
I wish I was not so
Ignorant to the fact that
you would
eventually
devise a way to generate
time for me,
before I spent nights on the streets,
knocking on every other door
of the neighborhood,
wooing each man of the house
until I would find the right
properly loving father
for my own,
along with the bonus of
something intimately more.
A lost
little street
whore.