Possibility

I’ve never seen you stand so gracefully,
than when you’re receiving bad news.
Because we love the things that hurt us-
and live our whole lives simply waiting,
for somebody in need of saving.

I’ve never asked you to be a father,
I haven’t wept between your lap
or left the indent of my face as a
“please don’t forget me" stamp on your fridge.
And mostly the scent of cigarette’s
is my memory of home.
I’ve never asked you why he can’t look me in the eyes,
or why we need to bleed just to heal.