Them

I’ve never been able to detach myself from my mothers pain or my fathers struggles. 
Her ridges once filled with hope, now hollow. 
His hands calloused from work into worry. 
Their smiles now dependent on the strength to wear their armor. 
Soft, whispered “I love you’s” turned into fear of the unknown.  
My glimpse at unwavering, returned love now tainted by many nights sleeping with sorrow. 
“I just want to be happy, I’m not happy anymore,” she bellowed in agony with tears dancing down her cheeks. 
My chest implodes when her pain is loud. My bones now brittle like a needle met with leather. 
Could I find the soundness in myself to comfort her enough to allow him time to ponder. 
His intentions, always pure, getting lost in translation. A mind with no boundaries, and a heart as pure as gold. He places the world on his being, not seeing the weight it bares. 
He exclaimed he will never be enough, not knowing her heart beat was dependent to his own. 
Together they created love, befouled by the grasp of the chains of the world, not recalling his calloused hands once filled her ridges, her fullness translating into his happiness.