Post by paintedmusic on Jun 13, 2008 16:47:57 GMT -5
Undeserved Kiss
6/1/08
he presses an undeserved kiss to your temple
for no other reason than he had the sudden urge
to play Make-Believe and pretend his daughter was
six years old again
begging to be tucked in at night
now you fall asleep over an open text book
“American history,” you grunt at his prying
a scowl tearing your face as if yin broke away from yang
“I have to study, Dad,” you mutter so
he leaves you to your fourscore and seven years ago—
the shreds of his torn-up heart painted openly across his face
but you’re so blinded by teenage angst
and ‘nobody understands me’s that
you don’t see the pain you have caused to the man
who once kissed your skinned knees with magical lips,
who once was your hero for the simple fact
that he could hit the backboard with a basketball,
who once whispered, “Goodnight, Bumblebee…”
after a pillow fight, tucking you in as feathers rained down
like shedding angel wings
(you know he always let you win, right?)
but now he’s just an embarrassment, and so
you no longer wave goodbye when he drops you off at school
afraid your boyfriend might see
and how was your day is greeted with “fine.”
you live in a monosyllabic reality,
so he resorts to Make-Believe
and kisses your forehead
(an undeserved kiss filled with memories of goodnight, bumblebee)
when you’re asleep on your text book
because he knows it’s the only time you won’t
wipe it away
6/1/08
he presses an undeserved kiss to your temple
for no other reason than he had the sudden urge
to play Make-Believe and pretend his daughter was
six years old again
begging to be tucked in at night
now you fall asleep over an open text book
“American history,” you grunt at his prying
a scowl tearing your face as if yin broke away from yang
“I have to study, Dad,” you mutter so
he leaves you to your fourscore and seven years ago—
the shreds of his torn-up heart painted openly across his face
but you’re so blinded by teenage angst
and ‘nobody understands me’s that
you don’t see the pain you have caused to the man
who once kissed your skinned knees with magical lips,
who once was your hero for the simple fact
that he could hit the backboard with a basketball,
who once whispered, “Goodnight, Bumblebee…”
after a pillow fight, tucking you in as feathers rained down
like shedding angel wings
(you know he always let you win, right?)
but now he’s just an embarrassment, and so
you no longer wave goodbye when he drops you off at school
afraid your boyfriend might see
and how was your day is greeted with “fine.”
you live in a monosyllabic reality,
so he resorts to Make-Believe
and kisses your forehead
(an undeserved kiss filled with memories of goodnight, bumblebee)
when you’re asleep on your text book
because he knows it’s the only time you won’t
wipe it away
