My little buttercup.
My father used to call me that.
What a weird nickname.
A great name for a dog though.
Now he doesn’t call me like that anymore.
After a while I stopped wondering.
After a while I stopped being sad.
Now I understand it.
Him being gone,
Me being alone,
My mom being sad,
You unknowing.
Now and then I remember,
I remember what he used to be like,
I remember his voice,
I remember him taking me into his arms.
It’s all a bit blurry now,
Not so clear anymore.
I was too little back then,
I understood too little.