I silence myself.
I don’t want conflict.
tiny razor-blade cuts
every time I open my eyes
or my mouth.

walking on glass
for love.
I’m doing it
to myself.

careful
not to overconsume,
because you’re watching
my moves,
monitoring for a mistake
that ends in conflict.

It’s up to me
to isolate in my room,
to decide if I eat,
to change my perspective,
to see your face,
to open my door,
to speak the wrong words
and still show up
for family so hurt
they can't care.

It’s up to me,
to change something,
myself,
if that's what causes it.
anything
but silence myself
and hurt you more.

I want to help save you,
but I save myself
from the pain
of lying in bed at night,
wondering
how a good day
went so bad
everyday.

I can stand up for you,
and I don’t
when I’m “scared.”

it all falls on you,
and that makes me feel
unredeemable.

I’m letting you down.
you tell me,
“get a voice.”
you say I hold more power,
that I need to speak up for you.
that I get treated better.

but I still feel
small.
invisible,
even when I’m the one
who “has it better.”

how do I speak up for you
when you taught me
to fear conflict too?

misunderstood themes
haunting my mind
like I’m serving a life sentence.

you say you could move away.
you’ve said it
more than once.

sometimes I think
maybe I should,
like you said.
and never talk
to anyone again.

I’m scared to leave with you,
because it could repeat.
but if that happens,
it’s up to me.

I’m sick to leave without you.
selfishness erodes this family,
disgracing what it used to be.

after all you did for me,
I can’t leave
without you.

you say you keep it real.
I agree.
thank you.
now I’m going numb
like you.

you say
I’m watching you self-destruct,
push and clear off the tables,
slam dishes,
throw food.

fifteen years have gone by,
and I’m afraid.
it got worse.
I'm not helping.

and if I’m there,
I’m worried
I won’t support you right.
that I’ll add stress
you don’t deserve.

stress you’ve carried
for years.
stress I am still
ignorant to.

you say,
"you think you feel stressed?
tell me about it."

I'll be the icing on your cake
on a bad day,
and you'll say,
"I'll make you feel
how you made me felt."

I’m codependent on you.
you’re like my parent.

and I replay
every time I disrespected you.
every word
I shouldn’t have said.
you still remind me,
because you are reminded.

you say nobody helps you.
I believe it.

I know
you want to die too.
so how
can I say
you hurt me

when I,
and everyone else,
have hurt you worse?

you say I’m the cause.
then, other times,
I’m not.

that I don’t do enough.
that I have power,
but don’t use it
right.

so please,
live my life for me.
or let me
take my own.

I need
a reason
to stay trying,
and to stop blaming you.

something more
and less pathetic
than living
for everyone else.