half true

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.
I love a good poem :-)
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