I never really knew the man,
we never really connected.
There aren’t any pictures of the good times we had,
sometimes I wonder if there were any.
I see him when I look in the mirror, mostly because
that is what people have always said.
He died when I was young and chemical distractions
kept me from mourning him, if I even could have.
You have to know something
to be able to mourn the loss of it.
I have had so many questions for him, he is gone though
and those questions go unanswered.
I wonder sometimes
if my father had any tattoos.

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