Dec 04, 2006 21:30
I Don't Have My Mother's Eyes
Fourteen years from last November,
we never heard from you again.
Those were the rules but
how could you follow them?
You were the world but
you sent us away to strangers
with a name on a lunch box-
I am Travis Johnson no more.
Why will I live my life in fear
that even the closest relationships
will end like that cold autumn
night in a strange pick-up truck?
And how could you look at us,
a five-year-old and a three-year-old,
and tell us you love us and that
we'll never see you again?
And do you ever wonder what
I look like or if I'm still blond?
And did you know that she's
an Olympic swimmer with dreams of the gold?
And when we grow up
we'll get married (you won't be there)
and have kids (they won't know you)
and you'll die (we won't care).
You are the reason I live and
I can't even remember your name.