I woke up this morning and I did not wake her up.
I woke up this morning and she did not ask me for 2 more minutes of that dream.
I did not rush to the kitchen and pour some milk
while spilling most of it on the stove.
I did not go back to her room and remove the blanket from over her face
And tell her it was 7:30 when it was still 7.
I did not rush to the bus with her, she did not leave her lunch box home.
She did not.
She was a grown girl yesterday.
She wanted privacy, yesterday.
She wanted her own space,
She wanted her own phase, yesterday.
All I could hear were extreme emotions,
A wrecked laughter
Or a loud cry.
The lights were set,
And the sun was out.
This sixteen was sour and dry.
It wasn’t hard for me to understand, I’m the old man and its my blood.
My only flower in the backyard was crushed,
Dead and disfigured, down under the mud.
I don’t know who did it
And do not intend to,
I just hope that they die early
And in a lot of pain
And I hope I die with them.
I wake up every morning
And I cannot wake her up.