Mark
Her presence is starting to weigh me down.
She wants something from me, something
I thought I wanted to give her,
but can’t.
My dad used to weigh me down, too.
His expectations sat on my shoulders,
dark and heavy as that bomb
on his roof.
My mom does it to me too, at home.
The way she shuffles around, sighing heavily, like
she’s looking for signs to tell her
which way to go.