Furry Curtains

I thought of telling you tonight

of the secrets I hold, or the barriers you bring upon me

forcing my eyes to be sealed grimly

in spite of your beautiful face,

held up solemnly to the bright light.

Too bad baby, your water is near gone

and it’s drought season this November.

 

And “Daddy she’s making me cry.

Daddy, she’s hurting me again.

The blue and dirty lady,

she came from underneath the bed.”

“Hush sweetheart, it’s only a bad dream.”

“But Daddy, the furry curtains are scaring me…”

 

Under the bed, baby, is where I’d love to be.

Just the two of us, clinging to satin sheets once more

as the night light slowly fades away

leaving us with nothing to hold

except each other.

 

And I’ll be all you need,

I’ll tell you all the bedtime stories you never heard before,

because Daddy was too drunk to do it.

And besides,

he always skipped the best parts.

 

You remind me of a river in a storybook I got

for my 12th birthday

from a sweet, but absent-minded auntie of mine

who wore her shirts inside out,

and forgot to put her teeth back in

after making love to the fishes.

 

And I’ll take you far away,

to the places we dreamed of going

everywhere you always said you’d rather be.

Anywhere but here…

 

She said bedtime was half an hour ago,

but I’m just not tired yet.

Scare me one more time,

I want the furry curtains back.