hestia
godess of the home, please don't mind that I give my blessings to my mother first.

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One day
I am going to miss
the scratchiness of my father's shaved beard as he kisses my cheek.

When I
wake up in the middle of the night
and see him laying on the floor sleeping as I remember crying for him
because I was scared of the dark.

The sound of his lullabies,
his prayers at night,
our fights over music tastes or
which video game is better
and his funky moves that he danced
in his day.

My father isn't gone
but I know I will miss him.

Even if I don't cry at the funeral,
it will be one day,
at some moment,
I realise
a part of him is there in my life
yet I won't see his face.

One day
I am going to miss
my mother's scratches on my back
as we watch tv just the two of us.

When she
overly kisses my face
and calls me her baby in front of people.

Having her ultimate support despite not deserving it,
the smell of her perfume,
and when she brushes my hair even when it hurts.

I understand
that grief is the maintenance of the promise to love each other forever,
but I don't want it to happen.

I don't want to
start crying out of nowhere
because of a memory.

Hestia please
don't take them into your hearth.

I want to
go back to the girl
who believed that
through picking four leaf clover
or making a wish
could stop the passing of my loved ones.

I don't want them to go.

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