Couldn’t it had been another room?
You just had to choose the wood floor…
You melted and we pretended you were still whole.
You kept watching TV, eating, we kept asking you for money.
You melted and it made listening to you harder, a dad on liquid state.
You were so small, you simply slipped outside.
Through the smallest gap under the door.
When people want to leave they transform to fit the exits.
And you left, and i was a kid, and i wondered…
And for years i hid under the pillow my fire hands.