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?