Listening

to you

is like listening

to my parents


I survived

around the notion

that my parents way,

the way they thought,

the things they believed,

everything they did.


Would die with them.


And here you are

fanning the embers

of thoughts

that shouldn't be yours!


I know not to slap you,

but I'm caught

between wanting to cry

and wanting to hold you,

brush my hand through your hair

"There, there.  There, there."


I know you.

I've been where you are.

Stop hitting the snooze button

it's time to wake up.