Sunsets Create Sunrises

Skip

You had plenty of chances to die, like
in the hospital when you came too early
and my nails began to turn black—
               but we survived that one together.
It could have been when you were allowed
to go home and not soon after the suicide
doors of the car opened and you flew out, rolling down the interstate, head pealing like a potato forming a halo on your scalp—
                but you ended up with hair like Jesus.
Even your father nearly took a shot at the job
when you both pulled a showdown in the house with guns at both your hands and your sisters lacked the sense to know not to stop you and Jack when you were in a fight—
                but we all survived.
You were always a fighter Skip—
                it was in your blood.
So how come I’m washing it out of the rug
where it pooled after that woman shot you?
Why do I hate myself for washing you down the drain?
I feel like I'm murdering you all over again,
when I should keep you safe.

~~~~

Lemme know what you think darlings.