it has been 8 years
since the union
since i've called you dad

so far, every year remains the same

i'll pass you a handdrawn card on father's day, a warm smile on my face
i'll write the words i love you over and over again for years

'you are the best,
  thank you for staying,
    thank you for not leaving
     thank you for taking care of us'


but the next day,
when the teacher asks us to write down a deep, sentimental reflection on our parents and our love for them

without hesitation,
i'll write about my mother
and then pass it up without a second thought

within the far depths of many sleepless nights,
i'll still cry,
whispering
i don't have a father

then i'll ask myself
how cruel i must be

how when its convenient,
you aren't a father, not to me.