Placed by your father's eyes.
Known by your father's dewy skin,
Walking on a tight rope behind your father's brain,
Blinking 'round your father's nose, as if you know your father's scent.
As if you had his knowledge at birth.
As if you carried your father's chill bumps,
The way they would raise when he spoke to you.
As if he ever wanted to teach you any lesson,
As if he simply put, wanted your pain to match his.
Because if you got lost on the play ground, tripped over a turtle, erased a fresh coat of nails, ate your spoon of macaroni before your father took his first bite, or laughed when your father tested the breast milk on his hand, and it was a little too hot.
How demanding a love so true was.
My pleasure it was.
To get a glimpse of some deceit you showed by if he was hiding your favorite secret.
Like I caught you both looking at each other in the bathroom mirror.
And that ol' sink in the bathroom, with all the freshly bought pink bows that just wouldn't clip around your father's hands.
Like I was jealous.
And when my looks turned into envy,
I cared a little less.
Whether you carried your father's foe,
'Cause somewhere in my diary, locked in your chestnut locked-hearted briefcase,
I wondered if you would ever open it one day,
And fake the same tears on your father's face.
You are your father's keeper,
And with every knowing,
Why would I grab a debate.
If I could look at you again,
I wonder if I'd just turn the other way.
And leave you to your father's day.
Because a pretty girl without a pampered mother,
Is all the memory, I just may take to your grave.
It's not like, then, you would have your father's gay.
But.
To even a score so brittle and so worn,
He would build a fence and leave just one spot next to you for him to save.
What is a mother to do, when her womb leaves not one spec, one trace, of her offspring so yellow and blue.
Surely, she dare not stop the bond that you and your father grew.
One of the reasons, why I spake not one more birth from a stomach sewn in two.
She flew.