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
