To the man who walked out on mom at her worst moments, happy father’s day.
If your reason was reasonable enough on why you left her weeping, and broken I would bother to ask for it

I heard how you called to wish her well on her new post but you couldn’t pick up the phone when your manhood rang, and sang blues for your approval. Hey dad, manhood is not automatic. And sorry biology forces me to call you that, father!
So my tongue slipped on a banana peel, and peeled off any remains of you BUT NOT THIS SKIN, THIS WOMAN, and THIS BEAUTY I meant bitter and somehow this woman still tastes your scent and still feels her tears like when you left.
That’s 2; I LOVE MY SKIN! I envy the rains that brushed against my brown, against my beauty and how they could never quite get rid of the bitter. I love how it scars enough, and teared enough to build a kingdom you left without a roof.

How she helped make it a home, and how through her I know my skin. I know its scars enough to know it’s a dream carpet for some man who’ll glance at it long enough, soft enough to know it was stitched with the brightest constellation and it’s a universe quite enough to be a magic carpet.
HOPE YOU SMILE MORE: that you’re happier than the day my brother was born, when I was born or the day my sister delivered her first cry. That this bitter, this anger raging and fermenting towards you is dumb-founded and this poem, that this poem is soo funny it makes you cry.
But I hope they love you dad, the way I loved you and the way God loves, how He loves me more to try scrub off any memory of a man who held in his arms 3 beautiful creations.

A man who created a monster hungry enough to feed off of her past but dumb enough to not know it’s not father’s day, I never celebrated father’s day. I guess I just missed seeing your back, and cleansing my palate on tears like when you left.


Jacob A. Osae

Posted by Jacob A. Osae

Poet + Songwriter + Screen Writer + Sci Fi & Fantasy Writer = Physicist.

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