You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

To my friend, Bri

Skin stained red with memories that can't be erased.
Even bleach can't burn away the touch he left.
He said he was proud then turned his back on you,
only to return to spit in your face.
Your mom blew in and out of your life
just like the way winter came last year.
Sending her love through green paper bills
and birthday cards made with someone else's words.

It's been months since you built a new home
one that has been bolted to the ground,
replacing shadows with bodies to keep you warm.
Your heart is cracked,
dented from the punches thrown by life,
but is still beating strong.
And you have a butterfly that lays on your arm,
pleading to keep going, to keep fighting.
He still finds you some nights, dancing in your dreams.
He's long gone though, sentenced 25 to life
but the melody still sparks a nerve,
still punches you in the gut.

Now you're sitting next to me writing your stories.
About how your bones are tiny and weak,
that one day they'll break under the weight of the world.
And when that happens, I'll be beside you,
arms wide open ready to catch you,
to stand you back up and steady your stance.