Father

 Late night overture
Slinging operatic blame
I hid in the hallway.
She told him to get out,
So he did.
Slurring his way
Down the stairs and
Into the 70's van.
Leaving
Left
Gone.

Years pass, this little girl
Waits.
She still waits,
Crouched low in a woman's mind.
Talk therapy dissipates
Unresolved, faked.
It hits you like that,
Hard, unrelenting smile
Behind it, hidden.

He was supposed to love me,
Not having any of his own
He simply couldn't.
An empty well
A vassal of nothing
A childhood scarred.
What could he possibly know
Of love, for his own.