Hurting me then kissing my empirical wounds,
I need to choose.
Neither of us seeing, her flawless skin while unharmed, hides pain and plenty of jagged scars below surface.
When I can get past my stuff, I watch her like when she was a baby.
She’s become excellent at hiding what hurts so that we feel okay.
I need to shuffle my feet and move like I am enough reason to leave this inhumane bullshit but I’m not there yet.
My child serving as best friend, out of Order.
I speak to her about what we go through because it’s a shared experience and we need download space.
I see that I am using my love for her to propel me and there is illness in that too.
I look in her tear-filled eyes after you do your thing and I feel the gravity of failure weighing me down again.
I haven’t succumbed,
Benumbed.
Caused by by by repetition
of questions and doubts.
Damaged vibration dampener not lowering the volume of you in my head so that I can hear my voice.
Queuing that record that says, “its been time to leave.”
Life stuck on repeat.
Compression ring broken
Needing it to spring us out
of our misery.
She’s not numb
She’s eye level and hyper aware
She who came to us with infinite possibility
Witnesses things we don’t understand even in over thirteen thousand days on earth
As we waste wisdom and time
We rewrite her destiny
The trajectory of her family
I pray that she will add boundaries and resolve and very little bitterness as she grows into a woman but how?
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