I struggle to find the words through this fog

This utter exhaustion and this fear

I cannot speak lest I make this thing worse

This bizarre shape that has grown between us

In the space of a hundred small hurts and a dozen roses

//

So I say them in broken, half-cracked imperfect expression

Trying my very best to make in you an impression

Of what it means to be honourable and what it means to be a parent

I speak to you of giving and receiving and of the value of a dollar

And you tell me that you understand

//

But the truth is that I don’t understand

I see only clarity where to you there is opaque curtains

I hear one voice when you tell me you hear a dissenting choir

I feel the pain of it when you feel nothing at all

So I don’t understand at all why you ask me to come closer

And then push me so far away from you

//

So this thing it grows and grows until I no longer

Know its name or its shape and I only know

That it feeds on me and it bleeds me

And every time my heart beats a little faster

Struggling to find the words in the fog

That might reach you

But in the utter exhaustion and this fear

I cannot speak