Your fragility
is burdensome to me
for you feel little more
than your own suffering
the terror of your inevitable death
makes you a vampyr
sucking the very life from me
since your own blood runs cold
and thin.
Your suicidal ideations and
self-professed cowardice
of follow through
provoked my alarm and pity
as a child

not anymore

My empathy and kindness
have made me strong, but
made you weak
helped keep
you an awkward man-child
with inappropriate boundaries
but it’s no surprise since
you chose yourself
to flee or comply
when someone stepped into yours
you hide behind
allowing others to take your childhood
because instead of standing up
you understood.
But I chose differently and
choose to keep all of me and
my forgiveness is not a package deal
complete with a bonus dose of amnesia
and insta-healing.

I gave up all hope
of having had a better past
and I truly know
you did your very best
and I let go
of expectations past and present
but your good intentions
don’t make it so
the cuts still bleed
and the scars endure
and now my healing
is my duty
for I am no vampyr
and this is my blood
not yours
and there will be no more transfusions
since I stepped into the sun
which does not burn my skin
and graduated
from raising any more
grown-ass men
no more daughters
parenting their own dads.

Don’t you see?

Your loveability
is not dependent on your competence
or state of faultlessness
yet you must face your own
‘cuz your inability
to separate mistake
from Self
keeps you from growing
keeps you
feeble, miniature
stunted and starving.

You’re like a parasitic bonsai tree
and I am not your gardener

Your fragility
is no longer my
so I hand you back your burden
and hope its carrying
will make your tiny branches
and wild
for this
is the weaning.

© S. Rinderle, 11/28/12

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