My mother looks at me and sees only my father 
Our noses that settle the same way
Our lips curling into identical smiles 
Which I suspect now only looks like gritting teeth 
To a snarl
She sees likeness in our addictions 
The likeliness that I too never find satisfaction with just one 
My hard working nature distorted to hell bent 
I can not fault her hurt 
While my brain knows it’s misdirected 
My heart still fries in my chest as her glare peers instead through me 
How can I not hate my reflection 

My father looks at me and sees only my mother 
Delicate hands that move to create where she said crafty he heard manipulate 
Feels unease that at any moment I will be gone with the next spark of inspiration 
Call it impulsive 
Nothing to tether me here 

The flight home takes me each time to the pit of my stomach
Preparing to show up as the worst parts of two people 
The love from the other tainting what little they have to give me so each warm embrace instead feels ice cold 
Uncomfortable bones clashing like dead branches Morse code messaging me in the middle of the night 

The signal is received on this end and it reads “a battery two parts negative, never to work, with the audacity to even try for functional. There is no charge. There is no spark”.

— Harmony Hagadorn

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