Family Ties #

love is a rope i can’t stop pulling.
each tug, each twist, wraps tighter around my chest,
a knot i can’t unravel.
you, dad—steady, strong, always there.
but you burn with anger, like a storm, quick to rise.
i brace myself for your words,
sharp as they are unintentional,
cutting deep, though i understand.
i know the weight on your shoulders,
the endless grind of life’s demands.
still, sometimes it’s too much—
the sting of your temper,
the bruises not on my skin, but somewhere harder to reach.
ma, you’re another kind of sharp.
you say you love me, but the words don’t match your eyes.
some days you hold me close,
and i believe it,
just for a moment.
but then the venom spills, and i’m left wondering
how love can be both comfort and weapon,
how you can kiss me with one hand
while the other pushes me away.
you hate the sight of me, you say,
yet somehow, i keep loving you.
it makes no sense.
it makes perfect sense.
you both pull in different directions,
like you’re each holding an end of the rope,
leaving me twisted in the middle,
unsure where to fall.
i keep telling myself i understand.
it’s easier that way.
if i understand, i don’t have to hate you.
if i understand, i don’t have to decide
whether to stay or go,
whether to cut the rope,
or keep letting it dig deeper.
sometimes i think about what it’d be like if i just… vanished.
left without saying anything,
just gone.
if my silence became the quiet you’ve both been chasing.
would you even see it?
would you feel lighter, like a burden you didn’t ask for finally lifted?
maybe the rope would untangle on its own,
the tension gone.
but i love you,
and i hate that i do.
i hate how it twists me,
how it pulls me under every time,
until i’m drowning in this love that hurts more than it heals.