Some people are super sensitive
and she was no exception,
ears cocked, and eyes alert
for any hint of criticism -
whether intended, real, or not.

But I was the only child,
grown used to her suspicion
and unwarranted retaliation
my skin had grown barrier thick.
But my heart?  That bled so often.

What I learned in later life
was how her repeated unfairness
not only thickened my skin
but left scars on it too -
lessening it's sensitivity.

Eventually it killed love!

(No, it killed a kind of love:
The kind that is earned.)

And it wasn't until the end -
when her breathing ceased -
and she released me to be free,
that I felt genetic love...

and wept for her loss.

© Griffonner 2023