Tanks Do Not Love Poem by Christopher Andrew

...it was painful...

I halt for now,
to let my eyes dry...

I pause to type some dozen times. I can't get out what is needed of me. The 10 years I've waited had frozen me. I'm cold and still as I type while my hands move and my face is tight. I sat and waited and constantly debated. Had forgotten the reasons too.

'Just as my mind started to go the one I've been hating passed on so.
She died while I tried to force amends, between my mother and her to stitch their whens.'

I need one or the other while I was child. But I recieved a blank check from my father. I wanted a family close to me and now it's Thanksgiving. My brother, uncle and parents too practice politics while I write to you. Wherever you are I'm sick of it. The girls and consistantly disrupting it. The harmony between a couple, hesitations and rebuttles. I just want fingers of no trouble.

Being abandoned by mother, grandmother too, being broken heart not by few. I don't trust too many so easily but so easily I can do it again. To love takes courage once and a lot of risk. To love again takes one hairy fist.