Just once,
can someone please,
be afraid,
of,
losing me,

I hope you are unhappy wherever you are.
And may you always lose the keys to your car.
May your underwear be uncomfortable all your life
and may you hit all the red lights whenever you drive.
May your upstairs neighbor party all night long
and may the radio never play your favorite song.
May your skin never reach the smoothness of silk
and may your cookies break when you dip them in milk.
Because I don't want you dead for just hurting me
But I wish for you that tiny extra bit of misery.

your mommy has gone to bed early,
that's what the doctor had said,
and he didn't feel the pain you felt the year after,
every time someone asked you where mommy was.

Kids can be mean, and kids sometimes miss their mommy,
can't you leave it at that,
You could if you knew where mommy went,
But we don't,

now all I have is a box full of her memories,
her photos, her jewelry, her smells that wish to never fade,
the last bottle of whiskey you saw her drink,
put next to the bottle of wine saved from her wedding day,

mommy went to bed early,
that's what the doctor said,
I asked him when she would get up,
he said she hurt to much to wake,

without another cup, a nurse chimed in,
I asked him, when she could come back to love me,
come back to hug me,
and he shrugged with no reply.

I look,
for some sort of protection,
but find nothing close to it,
behind your eyes,

I look closer,
deeper,
hoping to pull what I need,
out of you,

but I can't even find a bit,
or a piece,
of what I truly need,
what I want,

from you,
to me,
to the wall,
and the in between,

nothing we do,
makes sense to me,
and the trust is breaking,
it will get lost before it has begun.