I miss them. The Monday mornings when we woke up at 6 during a school break and stayed in bed just talking till 1 in the afternoon. When the sunlight warmed the Disney themed mug filled with hot chocolate that you bought me in Florida. I miss the way your eyes smiled when you didn't have the energy to,I miss your raspy morning voice and your messed up hair. I miss the stories you told me to help me sleep, and going to Europe. I miss the times where we sat inside and let the sun drift over us because vitamin D was so important to you. I miss the way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled, your charisma, and your love. But most of all, I miss being daddy's little girl. So when I need it, on Monday mornings, I throw open the curtains, take out my worn Disney mug and fill it with hot chocolate, and stay in bed. And I get lost in the memories of Monday mornings with you and mom and my brother like a broken iPod stuck on replay.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoetryALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
