when your mum uttered how she "really loved me" with tears welled up in her eyes,
i didn't know what to do and couldn't do anything else except share an embrace,
with the same answer and same tears. with gratitude. me too. me too.

all at once their silence on this didn't matter - not that i never understood;
at least i know it's not just simply a case of difference in surnames and different blood streams,
it didn't matter what they knew about this and i felt no urge at all to even tell them the whats & whys between us
it's just as hard for them, but of course no comments should be given. what could they say?

besides, when a tail wags non stop for 30 minutes in pure golden sunlight?
something flipped inside of me like i wished, and i am at peace.
perhaps civil conversations and/or words were/was what i needed.

after all, i wanted poetry to do everything for me