to my father

you taught me the meaning of billie jean (when)

i was four.

we took trips to the park on some days,

watched movies on others

you were my best friend

closer than me and your brother

you taught me how far the sun was from earth

i can’t remember now but then i felt so smart

i felt like my whole world was complete

just me and my daddy

a bunch of science geeks

you had me at 16 and i get it

i was a living breathing baby

no batteries in my back

back then i know it was hard

your senior year must’ve been filled with bottles and diapers

then a year later came first birthday cards

your favorite durag was red and you loved my pink hat

when it was cold, you made sure i was snug

when it was warm, you let me run free

your fingers fit perfectly into my chubby hands

it was always my favorite puzzle piece

honestly, you’ll probably never read this

but that’s okay

i just want you to know that i remember

the good times

the bad

the short

and all the times you made me mad

it’s been 17 years that you were given the title of father

but you haven’t regained the title of dad.