Keeper

I know he hurts inside
He misses his boys so much
But I am helpless to his pain
I tread on eggshells when we speak of them
And I see the signs he gives
That tells me not to go there
Their mother won’t permit visits anymore
Black heart and bitter soul
It’s been a year now
An eternal year

I try to make him happy but I know
There’s an emptiness I cannot fill
An emptiness that breeds guilt
And a sense of failure as a father
But he is the best father
He does his best
Keeps in touch
Keeps a brave face
And keeps his feelings
Out of arms reach
From me.

by Scarborough Gypsy

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