I like how they pretend,
their cozy, warm hugs
while spitting at my back.
Their dove-soft voices
hiding inner curses.
Evening chatter and card games,
smiles laid out on the table,
while they quietly choose a story for me—
turn my life into an issue
they never helped raise.
I see them choke
on how easily I make friends,
through laughter-filled meetings,
that turn into real friendships,
It sits bitter on their tongues.
I like their concern,
the kind that wishes me bad,
while pretending to care,
I’m still a toddler,
learning how to take steps.
I fall,
I crawl,
I learn how to deal with people,
while barely understanding myself—
but I already know,
how to make a fist.
I survive by all means,
I choose silence,
I walk away.
Because we don’t cut bridges
when we don’t yet know,
what storm
is ahead.