Saturday, October 29, 2016

How is it that we hurt the people we love the most?

The moment I said it I wanted to take it back
But words take up a life of its own
It hung heavy in the air between us,
Poisoning everything in its path.
How easy it was to wound, to hurt,
A part of me had wanted some payback
for what you had told me the other day,
for all the all years you kept telling me
what was good for me, who wasn't good for me
And for your concern which I tend to see
as a judgement on my choices, on my life
So I lashed back with the only
weapon I had, but I see how childish that
was of me, because really, I do love you very much
And I am older now, not a sixteen year old
rebel-without-a-cause, and you are older too
And I should have been more considerate
Instead I had caused you pain
And I suddenly saw the world from your eyes
The fear that your children are slipping away from you,
But I didn't know how to fix it, you see
You had retreated, I didn't know how to draw you out
And the day dragged on with this pointless
 hurting, with our swollen hearts painful to bear.
How is it that we hurt the people we love the most?

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