I hope she knows you're a fighterI hope she will kissI hope she knows you're a fighter by *flummo
each knucklebone tenderly,
turn the pages of your soul
hold the fire you carry inside of you
close to her chest
and tell herself,
is how he loves me.”
fathersi never again want to wake up and findfathers by *flummo
that someone else has gone in the night.
when i was 8, my father’s body decided
it was no longer vital, so it stopped
giving him signs, instead, a fistfight
he didn’t survive. i only ever succeeded
in burying him at the back of my mind.
at 16, when my brother drives home
at midnight, i fear a car crash,
i fear him closing his eyes, so i never do.
i don’t want him to be awake late alone,
so i sit up in bed until he gets home.
i can sleep when i’m dead, but neither of us
is ready for that yet.
are my architect, for when it felt like
our world had ended, it was you who stood
to save us from the wreckage,
from all the nothing that came of everything
our father built. it was you who stirred the dust,
who laid the floor on which we found our footing,
you who built the bridge from his life
and what came after.
faded from our days like a distant figure
through a window in the rain;
i am your bad weather daughter