blood

I have listened to your diatribes-
your well-rehearsed tirades
that you speak at me.
I am not strong enough
I am too weak-willed,
too forgiving-
not demanding enough of them-
too demanding of you.
I have waited outside
for you to return to tolerable.
I have waited inside
for you to deem me worthy of a
"good morning"-
forced myself to be satisfied
comforted by the quick, cold stare-
and the warmth you may eventually feel
that you don't seem to
when I am in your way.
I have felt you watch me
pick apart every move
and roll your eyes in disgust.
I have heard you laugh-
heartily-
at my need to investigate
and my desire to find some common ground
with those whom you despise-
whom I only dislike.
In spite of this,
or perhaps because of all of this-
I love you.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Because I've also seen the true smile-
heard the real laugh-
shared the joy
and seen you cry- hard
when your heart was rended as mine.
And because - no matter how often to say otherwise-
I know you love me too.