She Missed Her Too

She Missed Her Too

She was good at getting her father
Back into bed when he was drunk
He trusted her, always followed her instructions and
Would often call her by her mother’s name
Always cooperative
Never a mean drunk
Just silly and sometimes sad
She’d tuck him in
Fold his cloths as he talked nonsense
And left only when he was asleep, because
He’d been known to get back up
She loved him
And didn’t mind; he’s cute
She just thought it was a little raw
That he was
Allowed to drink it away
While she wasn’t
She missed her too

This poem is from my new book Let The Poets Come And Stop Me, that will be available this summer on interpunk.com or from me on this summers Warped Tour festival.

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