Burns

They say they loved me when I was a baby too

As if time or growth or your independence could ever stop me from loving you 

They tell me how much they do to keep us alive —and not send us to a home—

As if that is a scale to measure love on 

It is these things that clearly show

They are discussing something they have never known 

I wish they could see how much love it must be to hope after everything that they could feel what we feel 

So stuck on not wanting to be told they don’t know how to love that they miss the chance to experience it

So blind to the extent of my faith in them to weather the futility of trying them repeatedly

Such a bitter irony

The trying child of

parents who will not try for me

The cycle is broken but the circle is not 

Like a cold day in summer or a system reboot 

The path remains even after you change your shoes

At least you don’t have to carry this weight too

I will burn it down carefully, without scorching you