Mourning

I cry.
Tears break out of the restraints
That I have been forcing on them
For eons it seems.
And nested in the cocoon,
The right wall of which,
Is my mother,
And the left wall,
Father,
I cry.
Here is the only place
That I can relax my muscles
That constantly hold up
The walls around my heart,
Here, where my parents
Lay next to me,
Comforting me,
And momentarily losing sight
Of their own animosity,
As their child weeps.
I remember a funeral.
I remember mother weeping
As her own parent
Was carried away.
I cannot look my father in the eye
Whenever I remember this.
The memory brings on more tears.
When I have wept through,
And I am unburdened of this baggage
That had been picked up
In bits and pieces
Since my last breakdown,
They are still there,
And their hands are curled together
Over my stomach,
And together, as one mass,
We fall asleep.

-A (@firstdraftpoet on twitter)

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