To hell with the what if's

I wonder about the lovers
that never were:
all the children who grew
to love their things
instead of friends.
solitary breaths reduced
to a fraction of youth,
all to avoid a father's
stern hand.
i will commit your words
to memory
if you paint a picture
to hang above the headboard-
forever reminding us of this.

you can tuck me in after
we kiss the stars
and spend all of our
wishes on the kids...

i'll lay in yourr pool of warm
and admit there's no safer place
than this.