Bathtime

By Malik Hampton

Third night out the week, inebriated but trained past stumbling

Too seasoned to be tipping for extra seasonin, slurring, still in need of some relieve

Tossing and fumbling through my baby mamas things

Looking for a pen and pad to flood with ink, as these thoughts are flooding me

Bathtime with my only seed

my thoughts suffocating as her are eyes looking up at me

Am I the father she needs? If there were grades for parenting, am i passing or failing? 

I wonder cause I’ve come as far as potential can bring, see her eyes and i wonder if she loves me or the potential in me

I’m the first man she’ll ever love, does that mean I’m setting her up to fail at her first love?

To fall as hard as the 1st woman who ever fell in love with the potential in me?

i wonder how many others were born bastard, just like me

i questioned that whole exchanged since i learned where questions lead

I’m a piece of him,so why couldn't he stay?

Did his troubles hold more of a place in his heart than me?

Or did my mom make it hard on a nigga like at times life made for me?

So was his pain blinders or pain so blinding that he couldn’t see?

all the while my own questions ensnaring me

at times i have to gasp to breathe but even more willing before I see my daughter’s future that doesn’t include me

my daughter without me?

scenarios not even worth entertaining

a nigga not in they seed life, that just couldnt be me

all this rushing through my mind as I’m cleaning my seed

this is as intimate as intimacy can get

finally, i ask myself, did he ever bathe me?

her smile brings me back, dissociating at the wrong time can be a dangerous thing

then I make sure she has her aquaphor, make sure her new piercings are cleaned

Make sure vicks at the bottom of her feet since she been fighting a cold, then hold her like I imagine he would have held me if his troubles weren’t so menacing like a loud mind during a quiet time can be 

so please my seed I’m here and i’m trying, just be patient with me

By Malik Hampton