I had a dream I wasn’t yours.

your lifeblood, your child.

your essence poured into a half true poet,

like salt to a wound.

crooked teeth, brown eyes, 

a no good,

son.

I had a dream you lived a kinder life.

grew into your soul, grew up a bit too.

in this dream I am not yours, but

you haven’t ever even been mine.

cigarette, blue eyed, 

youngest daughter

turned  a half true mother.

“no good daughters, make even worse mothers” you say,

signifying your truth.

but maybe I have not been your daughter, nor your son.

so you’ll be a mother to no one.

because in this dream, I am alive, 

and you are still gone.