Hard To Love

I always feel her resentment on my shoulders.
Every time I enter a room, I ask her,
“What happened? Why couldn’t you love me in a way that I understood?”
She gives me the cold shoulder.
She looks me in the eyes, takes my tongue from my mouth,
and holds it.
She chooses when I get to speak
And to her liking, it was never.
“I beg to know is it because I remind you of yourself? Or am I different from what you wanted?”
She walks past me.
“I won’t call you mom, even though you are my mother. I won’t call you that.”
She walks out the door.
She taught me how to be alone a long time ago
“I’m sorry that I’m hard to love,” I admit to her
And she says I should be.