what I didn't forget

I thought about calling you last night again.
Then I thought about Ryan, and how long it's been.
Have you told him my name? Does he know I'm his father?
Do you even care, and should I even bother?
Ive learned to accept that I'll never be with you.
I've buried the past, it's no longer an issue.
I cried when I thought it was unnecessary,
but not knowing my son isn't easy to bury.
I still remember how your face was so cold.
You put him in my arms, he was just three days old.
Then you said "here's the reason you need to quit drinking".
My heart broke to pieces. I remember thinking
that right at this moment a drink does not matter,
if I lose my son, then my whole world will shatter.
And shatter it did, when they put me in cuffs;
When the judge said "William haven't you had enough?
And I tried not to break, though I did shed a tear.
I was sentenced to prison for 2-5 years.
My mom sent the picture of him in my arms
and I sent you that letter, though not to cause harm.
When you never wrote back, I kept hope every day
but i finally gave up, and you started to fade.
November the 3rd of 2003,
the wait was over, I was being released.
I sat one last time on the bunk where i'd slept
for the last three years, I did not want to forget
how I layed there each night where no moonlight would shine,
through the darkest of times with your face in my mind.
Where I'd wake up each morning to fight the same tears.
You were still in my dreams even after three years.

Nine years ago you gave birth to our son.
His birthday just passed, and I hope he had fun.
I'll always look back at us without regret,
and remember what you probably thought I'd forget.

                Ryan. 4-5-1999