@budtheteacher provided a prompt today that I immediately knew would cause me to write about my grandma. I just didn't know it would come out like this. Honestly :)
Web
Let me tell you a secret.
I lied.
That night when you asked me what was wrong.
I was in a strange bed in a strange state.
It was dark downstairs
because you had closed the door at the bottom.
Still awake? you asked.
Nightmares, I lied.
Dad was on the road,
headed back to L.A. for Mom and the rest of our things.
Now I wonder how we could have had enough
in those thin times for more than one trip.
Then TV won't be good for you.
And you closed the door again.
I wasn't having bad dreams,
just wanted to be close to someone who sort of
felt like my mom
and loved me like only grandmas do.
I lied and lost my moment.
Don't think I ever got it back.
If I had a park bench that let me have you back,
I would sit for days and listen,
even if you didn't speak,
I would listen to you.
For days on that park bench,
I would tell the truth.
Let me tell you a secret.
I lied.
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