you have cuts all over your hands
from stealing paper moons
to give to him
and the tears are like salt in your wounds
because you said he was like a fire
and every moon you gave him he burnt to the ground
and no, it wasn't his fault, he can't help the way he lights you up
and leaves a trail of ashes behind him
and no not tonight not tonight not tonight
repeated like a mantra in your head
because every time the sun went down
there was a monster in your bed
he crawled up from your nightmares,
your father thought he had put him to rest
his words grip you tight like a rope
an anchor that held you at the bottom of the sea
but his words tasted so sweet
you thought he was keeping you afloat