I see them leaning toward each other at the house,
I see my father strolling out
into the old maroon Chevy, the
glass windows tinted like night
smudged behind his head, I
see my mother sitting, left behind,
re using the damp tissue
lying on her lap collecting dust with the 
afternoon light still shining within her, it’s
blistering rays shine in the negative atmosphere, 
where the heat has risen, the air has stopped.

I won’t forgive them for what they did.
I will not let them bleed me dry
it’s up to me now, up to me to lead my future,
to not following their dreadful decisions.
Up to me to determine my structure of life,
under the impression of innocents,
their ignorance blinding the blind, 
their vulnerable approach touching the heart,
tearing us apart like cotton candy. I don’t give in. I
make life out as it’s going to be.

On a windy day
the limbs falling off a family tree,
our family falls down,
one by one.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
We all fly,
in our own directions
away from one another.